Crash and Burn
by A. X. Zanier
Summary: Alex, Bobby, Darien get sent on a mission and instead have to fight to survive. FINAL CHAPTER IS UP
1. Chapter 1

Author: A. X. Zanier  
Rating: PG-13 (Language, violence)  
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Invisible Man" or the basic story premises. Don't sue me all you'd get is the  
stories you're suing me over.  
Timeline: After "Exposed" /"Mere Mortals"  
Spoilers: Any and all eps to date may get a mention. That's yer warning.  
Comments: This plot bunny has been stirring about in the edges of my mind for a while now and this seemed  
like a good time to toss it out into the open and see whether it sinks or swims.   
  
A/N: I originally began this story before the events of September,11th and its been on again off again since  
then due to the Save I-Man Campaign and attacks by other plot bunnies. I've altered the original ending  
slightly to tie up show story lines that'll be left hanging.  
  
Thanks to Rebecca(WorkerCaste) for saving this one from the obscurity it nearly fell into.  
  
  
  
Crash and Burn  
  
  
// "Not till we are lost, in other words, not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves,  
and realize the infinite extent of our relations." Henry David Thoreau (1817 - 1862) //  
  
  
The first thing to impinge on the newly awakened consciousness was pain. Not that awaking to the sensation of  
pain was unusual these days. The pain of overindulgence, that drink or two -- or three or four, let's get real  
here -- before bed, so that maybe sleep will come swiftly and stay for more than a few short hours. The pain  
of loss, of true, torturous heartache. The pain of not knowing and always wondering. The pain of unrequited  
hope. The pain of loneliness, which in some ways was the worst of all. To watch those around you go about  
their days, their interactions, with real smiles and real pleasure -- however fleeting. With others in their  
lives. Oh, no, pain was anything but a stranger; it had become an unwelcome guest that refused to leave.  
  
This pain was none of those. This pain was a red roaring that made the head ache and the stomach roil and  
heave like a small boat on a storm-tossed sea. This pain made one gulp for air and moan through clenched  
teeth, swallowing convulsively to keep down the meal eaten not so long ago. A pain that scrambled the  
thoughts, making one forget who they were and how they got into this predicament.  
  
"Monroe," a harsh voice barked, doing nothing more than increase that dreaded, hated pain and make one wish  
for the darkness to return, to sweep one up in its cool, enfolding arms and find a release so desperately  
craved.  
  
A weight then, a pressure. A reconnection to reality that found its way through, past the pain, past the  
blinding fog that threatened to entrap the mind, past the subtle longing to just let it all end here.  
  
"Monroe, Alex. Wake up girl. We got trouble." The voice was insistent.  
  
"Ho... Hobbes?" Alex pulled herself upright with a hastily swallowed groan. She had to bite her lip to  
accomplish it, but that was a small sacrifice to make so that what she was really feeling didn't show.  
  
"Yeah, Bobby Hobbes." He moved in front of her and unbuckled the seat belt that had prevented her from  
flying head first into the rear of the seat before her. Though she probably hurt like hell, much as he did.  
Hips and lower abdomen nothing but burning pain and burgeoning bruises. They were alive, though. That was the  
important thing, the only thing. He checked her over in the dim light. She had a bloody nose as well as a cut  
over one eye. She was pale under the tan and, from the looks of it, she was having a hard time focusing.  
"Stay with me, Monroe."  
  
Alex shook her head to try and clear away the fog that was threatening to close back in upon her. "Hobbes,  
what the hell is going on?" She was more than a little confused as to where she was and why she was here  
with, of all people, Bobby Hobbes. Her head hurt way too much to even bother trying to force memories to  
surface and examine them for useful content.  
  
"We went down, Monroe." He grasped her arm firmly, tried to get her to move, to stand, anything but sit  
there staring almost sightlessly about her with a look of stunned confusion on her countenance. He really  
didn't need her going into shock on him, not now.  
  
"Down?" She wanted to ask what the hell they'd been up on, when memory flashed behind her eyes. "The plane.  
We... we we're flying into Sea-Tac. Meeting some ATF agents. I think? Shit, my head hurts."  
  
"Mine too, Monroe. Up with you. No time for you get all girlie on us and do something like faint." He  
figured if nothing else the comment would piss her off and get her moving. Anger could do a lot to override  
pain.  
  
"Hobbes, I am a girl. If I want to faint, I will." But she got to her feet cautiously even as she spoke.  
"Da... Fawkes. Where's Fawkes?" The recent past was slowly making itself known, but it was jumbled. The  
images tangled together, leaving her uncertain as to the exact circumstances that had brought them here.  
"Claire?"  
  
"Keep's, fine. Back home. Fawkes.... Well, Fawkes is another story." Hobbes wasn't kidding. He helped Alex,  
who would freely admit she was none to steady on her feet at the moment, towards the back of the plane where  
Fawkes had been sitting. Pouting was more accurate. He'd been bitching since the moment this assignment had  
been handed down. Something about not liking being sold to other agencies just so the fat bastard could  
scrape enough money together to fix the copier. The ranting had gone downhill from there, as the number of  
expletives from Fawkes' mouth had gone up.  
  
It took the threat of withholding counteragent to get him to shut up. That was the one ploy that still  
worked, though from the look in Fawkes' eyes, it wouldn't work too many more times. Hobbes' partner was  
quickly losing faith with the promises that had been and continued to be handed down from both the Official  
and the Keeper. Ever since Gaither had tried and failed to remove the gland, had blown himself, No-Name, and  
one SWRB facility sky-high, Fawkes had changed. Not necessarily for the better.  
  
"Ah hell, Bobby," Alex let out when she saw the problem. It was a damn good thing Fawkes was still out cold.  
He'd probably be screaming in pain if he was awake. Something had hit the side of the plane, in the row right  
in front of where Fawkes was sitting, causing the side of the plane to bow and warp and crushing the seats  
back into the unconscious man's legs and trapping him there. Moving closer, she gently set her fingers to the  
artery on his neck and was relieved to find his pulse strong and steady. The sigh of relief was a bit ragged  
and audible to Hobbes, but he chose not to comment. It was a good bet he was even more worried about Fawkes  
than she was.  
  
"There's more," Bobby said and lifted the right hand of his partner to display the tattoo coiled there  
beneath the watchband. It was half red already, which shouldn't have been possible when he'd had a shot just  
this morning, but with the crash and all it wasn't all that surprising. Fawkes' natural fight-or-flight  
response must have taken over at some point during the plane's harrowing fall to earth, and the quicksilver  
had flowed. Who knew how long he'd remained invisible, even after the plane had finally stopped doing its  
imitation of a rock dropping out of the sky. Even unconscious, his heart might have kept galloping along for  
a time, sending all the wrong signals to the gland.  
  
"Ah, crap," Alex muttered. "We need to get him loose. Has the pilot called for help?" She began examining  
Fawkes carefully, searching for any obvious injuries, broken bones, cuts, and the like. She was unable to  
check his left leg -- it was wedged firmly into the seat and wall of the plane -- but his near one seemed to  
be intact.  
  
"Monroe, the pilot is dead and the radio is out. The emergency beacon seems to be working, but that may not  
be so good for us." Hobbes moved around to the seats trapping Fawkes and looked them over carefully, hoping  
they'd be able to shift them enough to free him.  
  
After determining that Fawkes had most likely passed out from combined pain of his head colliding with the  
bowed-in wall and the seats trapping his legs, she searched from that side for the best way to shift the  
seats. Once Fawkes was free they could hunker down and wait for rescue to arrive. Civilization wasn't that  
far away -- the Cascades weren't that big a mountain range. Trying to gauge exactly how stuck the seat was,  
she gave it an experimental shove. "Hobbes, why would the beacon be a bad thing?"  
  
Hobbes noticed she was actually having some success shifting the seat added his strength to it. Her position  
was more than a bit awkward, having to lean over Fawkes and all. He was able to get a better grip, from a  
better angle on the seat. With their combined efforts they were able to move it a noticeable amount before it  
wedged firmly into the inwardly bowed wall of the plane. Releasing it, he looked over the situation.  
  
"Monroe, you musta really smacked your head a good one. We were shot down, remember?" At the confused look  
she gave him, he knew she was getting a great big blank on the blackboard of her mind. He couldn't blame her,  
really, based on the bruise that was swiftly forming under the cut on her forehead. Heck, he'd been out cold  
for a while himself and was feeling pretty damn lucky to have remembered what happened at all. "It's looking  
like we need to shift the seat in towards him and to my left to get it free. It's pretty much torn out of the  
floor, just stuck 'cause of the wall."  
  
Alex nodded in agreement, though she couldn't imagine it doing Fawkes' leg a whole lot of good. "Yeah, looks  
that way. We need to be quick, though." She shifted position, trying to get a better grip on the seat which  
meant she was practically in Fawkes' face. "Now, explain being shot down. I only vaguely remember getting on  
this flying tin can."  
  
Hobbes actually chuckled. She looked so flustered, and it wasn't something he'd seen too often. She was so  
careful to keep things very professional, and emotions had nothing to do with being professional. Where  
Fawkes tended to wear his heart on his sleeve, most days they couldn't be sure Monroe even had one. Then,  
occasionally, a job would come along and they would be reminded that there was a human being under that  
super-agent facade. The time they found her son was a good example. Another was spending a couple hours  
cooling their heels in the SWRB cell together. That had been an interesting conversation and included a few  
revelations on both their parts. It's amazing what learning a few unexpected secrets can do for a working  
relationship.  
  
"You do remember why we were flying up here, right?"  
  
Alex nodded. They were going to assist the ATF and several other agencies, including the FBI, in breaking up  
one of those home-grown militias that had taken their boasting and bragging that one step too far. They'd  
gone Waco for all intents and purposes and, since the government wanted to avoid another Ruby Ridge, Fawkes  
was requested to assist. Being Fawkes' partner meant Hobbes would be along and Alex was volunteered because  
she had some experience with this type of situation. Or so the party line from the Official had read. While  
it was true enough that she'd dealt with similar situations, she suspected the Official had an ulterior  
motive in sending her along. She had yet to divine what it was, though.  
  
"I remember that, Hobbes. Just not much after getting on the plane itself."  
  
"All right. We wanted to check out the encampment from the air -- it was on the route. So we headed down to  
do a fly-over. We'd been told that they had nothing fancier than some high-powered automatic weapons: AK-47s,  
maybe P-90s." He grunted as he began shifting the seat, trying to loosen it up from its base a bit more  
before attempting its removal. "Our wing got taken out by small surface-to-air missile."  
  
"A bit better equipped than they thought, huh?" Alex wasn't surprised. These mountain retreats could hide a  
lot, and intel tended to be iffy at best. It was only the fact that they had children being held up here that  
had forced the ATF's hand in the matter. Some of the kids were being held against the will of one of the  
parents. Essentially kidnapped, by daddy dearest. In fact, it was the mother of a four-year-old boy who had  
started the whole thing. She'd hiked her way down the mountain, walked into the first police station she  
found, and gone into a hysterical tale about what was going on up there. The small-town cop immediately knew  
that if even half of what the woman was babbling was true, it was way more than he could handle, so he called  
the state police. From there it had snowballed.  
  
"Just a bit. I'm betting they'll come after us, seeing as we didn't make a pretty fireball in the sky."   
Hobbes had the chair as loose as he thought he could get it without tools and without risking too much more  
damage to Fawkes. "Ready?"  
  
"Yes." She braced herself on the seat to help control the motion as Hobbes shoved it back by leaning his  
weight against it. They were trying to avoid jerking it back, but it was stubborn and moved only slightly.  
She glanced at Hobbes, who was frowning. "Do it."  
  
He did, giving the seat a sharp push that finally loosened it. Then a jerk to the side freed it completely.  
  
That's when Fawkes decided to return to consciousness.  
  
Alex froze at the sudden scream of pain, as well as the hand that had snapped out and grabbed her by the  
throat, cutting off her air. "Fawkes," she croaked out, "Leggo." One of her hands had come up to wrap about  
his, trying to convince his grip to loosen. She didn't want to have to hurt him, seeing as he was already in  
a lot of pain, but she wasn't going to let him suffocate her either.  
  
"Monroe?" His voice was strained, pain seeping into the two short syllables that were her name. Releasing  
his hold as the blinding pain eased sligthly and allowed him to focus, he felt instantly guilty and more than  
a touch confused. What the hell was Monroe doing practically pushed up against him and why the hell did his  
leg feel like it had been run through a wood chipper? "Alex? Wha's hap'nen?" Oh shit, he hurt. If his head  
was a pain-filled throbbing, something he'd become oddly used to over the last year or so, his left leg  
didn't bear thinking about.  
  
"Easy, my friend. Let her go and we'll explain." Hobbes hadn't stopped with just freeing Fawkes from the  
chair. Once no longer entrapped by the wall the seat was easily ripped free of the floor and manhandled aside  
allowing him to actually get a good look at Fawkes' leg. He was pretty sure Fawkes didn't even realize he'd  
grabbed ahold of Monroe's hand and was doing his best to crush it.  
  
"What?" Darien realized he was holding Alex's hand -- the hand that had only recently healed from a battle to  
a draw with a glass wall -- and released it with a touch of embarrassment flickering across his features.  
"Sorry," he mumbled.  
  
"No problem, Fawkes. Not a bad grip for someone who looks half-dead." She blew off both his apology and his  
embarrassment, like always. She had to cover her reactions somehow, and callousness worked quite well, she'd  
learned over the years. No point in letting him know that she, for some reason she had yet to fathom, 'liked'  
the fact he'd grabbed her hand for comfort, that he had called her by her name, her first name, instead of  
just Monroe. The fact that she 'liked' anything about Fawkes bothered the hell out of her, and she did her  
damnedest to never let it show. The man was a thief, an inveterate troublemaker, a smart-ass supreme, and yet  
over the months she'd found herself...not attracted so much as simply liking the man. He had a style that drew  
you in and a heart that was big enough for three people. In a man who was both a proven con man and ex-con, it  
was an odd thing to discover and not something she had expected when she had first come to the Agency. It  
hadn't been all that long ago that she had realized he might just be worth trusting.  
  
Darien could feel Hobbes doing something with his left leg, the one that really hurt. From the knee down it  
was strangely numb, but the knee itself was where the pain was centered. His pant leg was being slid up, he  
could just feel it, and then Hobbes started muttering to himself. "Monroe...."  
  
Alex looked at Darien and patted him on the shoulder before shifting to get a look at what Hobbes wanted her  
to see, but not mention aloud. Clambering around so that she was looking over his shoulder, she made sure not  
to react visibly. All she could think was that it could be worse. The entire knee joint was canted at an angle  
that was entirely wrong. She couldn't tell if anything was broken but at the very least the patella was  
knocked out of alignment, which meant all the ligaments were stretched if not torn completely. There was also  
a chance the joint itself was a mess, maybe crushed, maybe dislocated as well. "Hobbes, you gotta do it," she  
whispered it in his ear, not wanting Fawkes to hear this yet.  
  
"I know," Hobbes said in the same tone. Then louder. "Fawkes, what do you feel down here?"  
  
"Not much below whatever is left of my knee." Darien didn't bother to even consider lying. It was bad and he  
knew it. He was just afraid to find out exactly how bad. He'd caught the lack of expression on both their  
faces, which just screamed 'bad news' to him. He wondered if they even realized how alike they were. The same  
looks, the same attitudes about most things, the same reactions to a lot of situations. Part of him knew it  
was simply because both had been doing this for a while, both has similar training and, through that  
training, similar mindsets, but he still found it eerie the way they almost didn't need to speak to each  
other and still knew what to do. Like when getting out of that SWRB lab. The two of them had cleaned clocks  
with a coordinated attack that almost looked planned, while he'd simply started whaling on the remaining guy  
until he'd gone down and stayed down. Then the stupid mag card had stopped working and the two of them had  
simply kicked open the door as one. They hadn't even said a word and still just knew.  
  
He and Hobbes could do the same thing at times, but it had taken almost a year to get that easy and  
comfortable with each other, and not the few months it had taken them. Darien started to wonder if he was  
feeling a bit jealous, but just then Hobbes did something to his leg and thoughts of any kind were lost in  
the sudden surge of pain that threatened to knock him back into the darkness. He knew he was screaming, but  
couldn't stop himself. It was a soft voice and gentle hand that finally made their way through the red haze  
of pain.  
  
"Easy, Fawkes. The worst is over." She and Hobbes had debated for all of thirty seconds about whether or not  
to tell Fawkes they were going to do what they could to reset his leg. They both knew it was going to hurt  
like hell and agreed it was better to just do it without telling him so that he wouldn't tense up and make it  
that much harder.  
  
Catching his breath he shouted, "Some warning would have...."  
  
Hobbes cut him off. "Made you tense up and hurt three times as much. I got it reset. We just need to rig a  
splint or something. Then we can get out of here." Hobbes surveyed his handiwork carefully. "You feeling  
anything more now?" He was hoping that by straightening the knee, the blood flow would return. It had  
better, or Fawkes was going to be in a lot more trouble and need more than just a little knee surgery when  
they got out of here.  
  
Darien nodded wordlessly. He was biting his lip to hold back the few extra screams of pain that wanted to  
make themselves heard. His knee had returned to a dull throbbing, a heated burning sensation like that of a  
banked fire. Ready to flare into new life at any moment. He'd made the mistake of trying to move his foot and  
pain had shot down his entire calf as the nerves woke up and vocalized their unhappiness with the current  
situation.  
  
"Monroe, I'm going head out and see what I can find. There should be a first aid kit or something on this  
plane. Try and find it." Hobbes got to his feet and headed for the exit near the front of the plane.  
  
"Hobbes see if you can get into the cargo area and get our bags. We may need the counteragent... and our  
weapons." Alex's lips were a tight line. If Hobbes was right and the ones who shot them down were coming to  
make sure the job was completed, they would need every advantage they could get, and all their weapons had  
been packed in their luggage, unloaded.  
  
Hobbes nodded. "No promises; for all we know, our stuff is spread across a half mile, but I'll check." He  
unsealed the door, he had to put his shoulder to it to get it open and even then it only swung just enough to  
allow him to squeeze out.  
  
Alex swung her attention back to Fawkes. "Can you hold it together for a minute?" He was a total mess, the  
hair on the left side of his head matted with drying blood, his eye swiftly blackening from some unknown  
blow, and that was before you noticed the way his knee was quickly swelling to the size of a softball.  
  
"Me? I'm not the one with blood running down my face, Wonder Woman." He was hurting and felt the odd impulse  
to spread the discomfort around to others. She just happened to be the only conveniently near target.  
  
"Gee, Fawkes, nice to know you care. Given your current injuries, I could start calling you and Hobbes Ren  
and Gimpy," Alex snapped, not needing to be reminded that she currently both looked and felt like crap. She  
moved away from him and towards the front of the plane, hoping the first aid kit might be somewhere up near  
the controls as was typical. "Your partner and I were both injured, if you hadn't noticed. Take the time to  
remember whose injuries we were handling first." Oh, yeah, that was a real smart way to show she cared. Just  
yell at him and make him feel guilty for the being the self-centered, self-absorbed, selfish idiot that he  
usually was.  
  
'Smart Fawkes. Real smart,' Darien mentally berated himself as he tipped his head back with a groan. 'Just  
how the hell do you think she ended up with blood all over her face? Hmmm?' "Taking pieces out of jerks like  
me, most likely."  
  
"Did you say something, Fawkes?" she called from up near the pilot.  
  
"Nah, just bitching about the situation. Like always." Darien wasn't about to admit he'd screwed up again.  
That he hadn't intended to presume she wasn't hurt, or that she was under any obligation to help him, or...  
he wasn't sure what the hell he meant any more. The last couple of months had been... weird, even for his  
life.  
  
His dad, whom some part of him had thought of as dead for a long time, turned out to be not only alive, but a  
top-notch assassin. He did get to reunite with his grandmother, that was something anyway. Though it made him  
wonder what his life might have been like if he and Kev had gone to live with her instead of his mom's  
family, Celia and Peter Donovan. His mental picture of Mason Fawkes had gone from small time thief who didn't  
give a damn to an even more mysterious figure who was better suited to being related to Hobbes or Monroe than  
himself. A loyal government agent who would give his life for his country. One of the fricking good guys.  
Like he'd said that day, "My dad's John Wayne." He still hadn't really come to terms with it, or with what  
it meant about himself.  
  
Weirdness number two was a dead tie and both had involved a woman.  
  
One of those women was currently ducking into the cockpit in search of the first aid kit. Even wearing a  
bleached-out pair of jeans, T-shirt -- designer and expensive, but still a T-shirt -- and one of her  
innumerable blazer-style jackets -- this one in deep blue -- she was beautiful. It had been inevitable that  
he'd be attracted to her. Hobbesy was too, and made no bones about it, but aside from some occasional  
flirting and sly innuendo, his partner had done nothing to pursue it. Darien, himself, had done no more than  
try and be her friend after his first and only fumbling attempt at making nice. He'd since done his best to  
be a co-worker, maybe a friend, and nothing more, and she was finally learning to accept him in that capacity.  
  
Since she had both rescued and given up her son, he had gotten a glimpse of the woman behind the five-star-A  
agent, and she had him intrigued. He continued to be very careful around her, making sure not to offer or be  
anything more than she was ready for. Unlike Claire.  
  
He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Slowly he shifted his leg, trying to ease the pain by  
finding what he hoped would be a more comfortable position. The pain flared higher at first, then did indeed  
ease a bit with his leg slightly straighter than before. Still refusing to look at it, he thought about  
Claire instead, wishing she and her doctor skills were here to make him all better. Both Bobby and Alex had  
first aid and some basic triage knowledge, but until they got down off this mountain, there wasn't a whole  
hell of a lot they could do for him.  
  
Glancing at his wrist, he frowned at the sight of far more red than there should be. Maybe it wasn't so bad  
Claire wasn't along. Who knew what the hell he'd do the next time he went red-eye in front of her. Would he  
attack her in anger like he did when dying of Arnaud's flu? Once again sick of her little games and  
manipulations? Would he go after the counteragent, like before they brought Kevin back from the grave? Or  
would he seek her out for a little lustful satiation, like the last time? Of course, she'd been more than a  
little mad herself at the time, what with the Phase III of the Beta-C putting her in a state very similar to  
that of quicksilver madness. The combination had driven the both of them into a foolish and compromising  
situation.  
  
Bobby said he'd forgiven him, that it was no big deal seeing as neither of them had been all that sane, but  
it was a big deal. A very big deal. Darien liked Claire, depended on Claire, trusted Claire, but there was no  
way in hell he'd fall into the trap that Charlie Fogerty had. Plus, as he had begun to realize, all those who  
got truly close to him, to the quicksilver gland, tended to get very dead. So even if he were willing to  
consider some kind of relationship with Claire, he didn't dare. Given a choice, he'd much rather have her  
alive and helping him. Perhaps that was selfish of him, but she had been hired as his Keeper, and this was  
not his choice of a lifetime career. It was an odd interlude in his life that would end the day the gland was  
removed. If staying a bit distant from Claire aided in that, he'd do it with few, if any, regrets.  
  
Deciding he'd done enough thinking for now, he called out to the Alex, who was out of sight. "Monroe, any  
luck?"  
  
"I'll be out in a sec, Fawkes," Alex called back from the tiny storage closet next to the cockpit. She'd  
lucked out and not only found the first aid kit, which by some miracle included ice packs, tylenol and an Ace  
Bandage, but also the small fridge the pilot had shoved in there, which was stocked with bottles of water and  
soda. She grabbed a couple of bottles of water and headed back to where Darien sat, staring at his knee with  
a look of fear and pain on his face.  
  
Sitting in the seat next to him, she handed him one of the bottles and set the rest of the stuff on her lap.  
"How are you doing, Fawkes?" she asked as she began to go through the first aid kit. First thing she did was  
pull out the ice pack and crack it to get it cold. Reaching over, she set it on his knee, causing him to hiss  
in pain.  
  
"Ahhh, just great Monroe. Awfully glad I gave up my career as a thief for this." So he was more than a bit  
cranky at the moment. He had every reason to be. Holding the ice pack in place, he tried to keep himself  
together until the cold had seeped in and numbed it.  
  
Alex ripped open the tylenol package, noting the few they had. "Take these. They should help reduce the  
swelling." She was actually surprised when he didn't argue and swallowed them down with a drink of water.  
  
"Thanks," he said quietly, not sure what else to say, and somehow knowing that whatever happened next wasn't  
going to be all that much fun.  
  
"Sure, Fawkes. Let me check that head of yours." She stood and set the kit on the seat, trying to get a look  
at the far side of Darien's head, but he wasn't cooperating.  
  
"It's fine, Monroe. You look like you need more help than I do. Sit." He wasn't kidding. Now that his knee  
wasn't screaming at him, he got a real good look at her. The cut on her forehead a was still bleeding  
sluggishly, and the lump was slowly taking over a large portion of her face, even causing one eye to begin to  
close. "Got another ice pack in there? You could use it."  
  
She shook her head, trying to ignore the throbbing that was getting no better, and the continuing nausea.  
Nevertheless, she sat back down. "Fawkes, you're gonna need it. I'll manage." She looked about the cabin,  
not sure what to do next. Until Hobbes got back, with hopefully good news, they were stuck.  
  
  
  
Hobbes hadn't wanted to wander off too far from the plane, but after a look-see at the condition of the  
underbelly of the beast they'd ridden down on, he realized he would have to. At a guess, whatever had bowed  
in the side of the plane had also torn out a good portion of the bottom. Everything that had been in the  
cargo area was strewn across the length of the crash path. That wouldn't have been so bad, except that the  
fuel tank had apparently been ruptured at the same time and covered everything in the highly flammable jet  
fuel. It was fricking miracle they hadn't gone up in that big ball of flames.  
  
He gave up searching for anything salvageable after only a few minutes, abandoning any real hope of  
retrieving their weapons, or of finding the counteragent undamaged and usable. Oh, he would keep his eyes  
open and hope for some luck, but it was looking to be highly unlikely he'd find anything of use. Unless they  
needed a torch or two. He turned his focus from salvage to finding something to splint Darien's leg with. He  
had as bad feeling their time was swiftly running out. Moving briskly, but alertly, he walked along the crash  
path and found a variety of branches broken off from their impact with the trees that, once stripped of excess  
material, would do for a start.  
  
Leaning back against a tree, he pulled out the knife he kept in his boot -- new government regulations or  
not, friends or not, he refused to travel without some kind of weapon -- and proceeded to remove anything  
from the branches that would cause irritation.  
  
He could have done this back at the plane, but he wanted to get a feel for the area. An idea of what was  
normal for the local animals and what was not. It was heavily forested, with thick underbrush. The exception  
was the missing swath; courtesy of their less-than-stellar landing. Any landing you can walk away from,  
though, right? They'd been down long enough for the animals to have gotten over their surprise and fear and  
return to their normal habits. Their familiar calls and cries echoed off the multitude of trees. The air was  
cool and slightly damp, typical for this northwestern rain forest.  
  
Finished with the branches, and now having a pretty good idea of the 'normal' sounds for the area, he headed  
back to the plane. He kept hoping he'd spot one of their bags -- his or Monroe's by preference -- maybe  
hanging from a high branch or the like, but there was no such luck. Well, he'd make do, just like he had many  
times before.  
  
Before entering the plane, he shoved at the door some more. They were going to need the opening as wide as  
possible to get Fawkes out. Skinny as he was, he would be needing help to even hobble about, and they didn't  
dare risk banging his leg about any more than absolutely necessary.  
  
Entering at last, he found himself facing Monroe, who was prepared to cold cock him with a fire extinguisher  
she'd discovered somewhere on the plane.  
  
"Damn it, Hobbes," she muttered as she lowered the makeshift weapon. Then she eyed the little he was  
carrying. "No luck I take it?"  
  
"Unless you want to wear clothes covered in jet fuel. No. No luck." He looked over at Fawkes, who was sitting  
quietly with his eyes closed. "You didn't let him fall asleep did you?"  
  
Darien's eyes came open and he watched his worried partner approach. "No, Hobbes, just seeing if that  
biofeedback crap is any good for pain control."  
  
Hobbes moved to crouch before Darien and, after setting the branches down, removed the ice back and examined  
the knee. "And?"  
  
Darien shrugged. "Dunno. You showed before I had a chance to really get started."  
  
"That's right, blame it all on me." He gave Darien a wry grin, which he attempted to return, before looking  
at the damage again. "Well, Fawkes, you did a job on this leg of yours. Think you can handle some more pain?"  
  
Darien cringed but nodded, knowing it had to be done.  
  
"Umm, Hobbes..." Alex said from near the front of the plane. She was feeling even worse at this point, her  
head a never-ending ache that was affecting her sight and making her come damn near to that fainting he'd  
mentioned earlier, but she had seen something moving outside, and it for damn sure was no deer. "I think we  
might have company."  
  
Hobbes joined her back at the door of the plane and looked out into the woods beyond. Monroe was right, there  
was something moving out there. Still just at the far edges of sight at this point, but there. Moving quickly,  
he headed back to Fawkes. "Up and at 'em. We have places to be, and they are not here."  
  
Darien unbuckled and, with some help from the wall, got upright on his good leg. He remembered to duck and  
not smash the top of his head into the low ceiling, and with Hobbes' assistance got into the aisle. "What  
about the splint?"  
  
"Later, Fawkes. We need to get some distance between us and this big beeping target." He focused on Monroe,  
who was still watching out the door. "Grab the kit and whatever supplies you can carry. Especially the water."  
  
Alex nodded and peeled out of her jacket, intending to load it up with the bottled water. She had stripped  
the fridge and repacked the first aid kit in under five minutes. She went out the door first, her nerves  
afire, just waiting for the worst to happen, but the figures seemed to have moved further away for the time  
being. "All clear."  
  
With one of his hands resting on her shoulder, Darien slipped sideways through door with a groan as his leg  
connected with the frame.  
  
"Keep it together, Fawkes. We'll take a break in a few and get you squared away." Hobbes motioned the way he  
wanted them to head with a wave of his hand; Alex came around to Fawkes' other side to offer what support she  
could while also carrying their few supplies.  
  
"'Keep it together,' he says. I told you this was a stupid idea. I said this trip would not be worth it. Are  
you going to listen to me now?" Darien complained as every movement sent another round of agony through his  
leg.  
  
"Well, its good to know you're feeling better," Alex commented tartly. She began to wonder how long she was  
going to make it before the pain and nausea overwhelmed her. For the time being she could push it aside, had  
to push it aside; getting to safety, getting Fawkes to safety, had to come first, no matter how uncomfortable  
it was.  
  
Hobbes just shook his head at both of them. Things were perfectly normal.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2  
  
  
"Stop," Darien groaned, as yet again his leg got nailed by something he couldn't see in the underbrush. Even  
though they had splinted it at a slight angle -- he could not straighten it completely, they had discovered  
-- the underbrush was more than thick enough to make it unavoidable. He'd endured the pain as best as he  
could, but that last whatever-the-heck-it-was had nailed him right on the knee, making him want to whimper in  
pain and curl up on the forest floor till someone made it all better.  
  
"Fawkes..." Hobbes began, only to be cut off by Monroe, who all but collapsed out from under the arm that  
Darien had draped over her shoulder for support, leaving Hobbes to try and hold up Darien's weight on his  
own. He grunted with effort, but managed not to drop his lanky partner.  
  
Finally giving in to the nausea, which had been increasing ever since leaving the plane, Alex staggered a few  
steps away and went to her knees, attempting to get rid of the contents of her stomach into a nearby fern.  
Whereupon she discovered herself unable to do anything. Nothing would come up, but the urge to vomit refused  
to ease and she found herself gagging and dry heaving until her abdomen felt like it was tearing itself apart.  
  
Hobbes helped Darien to the nearest tree, where he could lean in relative comfort, and then moved to Alex.  
"Monroe..." Her hand came up to keep him away, but he ignored it and crouched next to her, one hand resting  
on her back. "Easy there. Try not to fight it." He drew her hair back away from her face and waited  
patiently till she finally got some sort of control and was able to sit back on the forest floor, trying to  
catch her breath and looking dead pale.  
  
"Well, that was fun," Alex commented in a shaky voice. She didn't really feel any better now that she'd  
submitted to that bout of nausea -- in fact, she felt worse. The coppery taste of blood in her mouth did  
nothing to help the situation, either. Her head ached, her vision was blurry, and her abdomen was now trying  
to compete with the pain in her head.  
  
"You should have said something," Darien said softly from his position against a nearby pine tree. He'd been  
rather shocked at how violently ill she'd become and knew it couldn't be good. His headache was mostly gone  
and, though he'd earned his own set of seat belt bruises, his stomach was doing okay. He just couldn't walk  
unaided. His knee would tolerate no pressure on it at all.  
  
"Yeah, Monroe," Hobbes agreed, handing her one of the bottles of water from the jerry-rigged bag made out of  
the remains of a shirt they'd salvaged which had allowed Monroe to put her jacket back on. It hadn't been too  
badly damaged by the crash or the fuel spill, though the odor lingered.  
  
She took a tiny sip of the water to see if it was going to stay down before taking an actual drink. What she  
really wanted to do was spit it out to get the awful taste of blood from her mouth, but didn't dare. There  
was no way she'd admit how badly off she was until they had Fawkes off this mountain. "Fawkes needed the help  
more. I'll manage."  
  
Hobbes shook his head at her. "You won't be much help if you pass out. Now let me take a look at you." He  
waited for her to argue and was surprised when she simply sighed softly and nodded. That was more than enough  
to make him realize she might very well be seriously hurt. He was no doctor, but knew all basics; he decided  
in a short amount of time that she probably had at least a mild concussion. Her eyes were not dilating evenly  
and she admitted to having trouble focusing. Convincing her to show him her abdomen was a bit more of a  
challenge. It was Darien's smart-assed comment about 'peep-shows' that finally got her to lean back and allow  
him to look at her.  
  
Hobbes had checked both himself and Fawkes and knew that, while they were both bruised and sore, they were  
okay. Monroe was not as lucky. Her smaller frame had not gotten along well with the safety belt that was  
supposed to keep her from injury during a crash. The bruise was already darkening and there were seam marks  
from both her shirt and jeans imprinted in her skin. When he probed, what he thought was gently, she moaned  
and nearly passed out from the pain.  
  
"Bobby?" Darien's use of Hobbes' first name was one of the small ways his concern came through. This was no  
longer an Agency matter to his mind. This was his friend lying there on the ground hurt. Perhaps worse than  
he was.  
  
Hobbes shook his head and then did something that seemed incredibly odd -- he kissed Monroe on the forehead.  
  
She looked at him, almost shocked speechless. Almost. "Hobbes, what the hell are you doing? Just 'cause I'm a  
little hurt doesn't mean I can't flatten your ass."  
  
Hobbes chuckled. "Like to see you try, Monroe." He tipped his head at her glare. "I was checking you for a  
fever. It's not as accurate as a thermometer, but better than using a hand." Thankfully she was not showing  
signs of one yet, but he had the terrible feeling that that piece of luck wouldn't last for long. Without  
being able to do a thorough examination, he could only guess at the damage that had been done. He mentally  
crossed his fingers, hoping it was only deep bruising and that she hadn't ruptured something internally,  
because if she had, she might very well die on this mountain.  
  
Alex closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. "Right, sorry." She wanted to lie down and sleep. It was  
comfortable having her eyes closed, not trying to force her eyes to focus correctly, the soft sounds of the  
forest about her... She jerked herself upright and then had to keep from screaming as her muscles complained  
viciously about her too-fast movement. "Damn."  
  
Hobbes had seen her nearly nod off and had been about to wake her when she did it herself. "Up, Monroe. We'll  
find a place for you and Fawkes to hole up and I'll hike down the mountain for help."  
  
Once on her feet she shook her head. "I'll be fine. We need to get Fawkes out of here." She leaned in closer  
and lowered her voice. "They can't be that far behind us."  
  
Hobbes responded in the same manner. "I know. I can move faster and bring the cavalry. You are not going to  
make it far coughing up blood and you know it." They had agreed back at the plane to not tell Fawkes exactly  
how much trouble they were in. He had used half his invisible time already and they wanted no part of having  
to lure a quicksilver mad Fawkes down the mountain. With no counteragent and little chance for getting any  
soon, they needed to keep him as calm as possible.  
  
"Uh, guys. Private convos are great and all, but don't you think I should be in on it?" Darien wanted to  
know what was going on. He was betting that Monroe was far more hurt than she was letting on, and since she  
was never anything but stubborn, he knew she would hide it even if it killed her. He pushed himself away from  
the tree and carefully hopped over to where they were. Hobbes held out an arm to help once he was near enough  
and Darien settled behind him, one hand resting on his shoulder.  
  
Alex glanced at her watch. "Look, it's only a few more hours till nightfall. Lets make what time we can and  
keep our eyes out for a place to hole up for the night. We aren't going to be able to do much once the sun is  
down anyway." When it looked like Hobbes would protest she added. "We need to keep moving while we can,  
Hobbes."  
  
He narrowed his eyes, but gave a slight nod in agreement. "As soon as we find a place to stuff you two, we're  
taking it. Both of you are going to feel ten times as bad come morning. I'll find help and get them back  
here." He looked from one to the other, expecting arguments, but got none.  
  
Darien was suspicious, though, suspecting something was up. "What else is going on? Besides Monroe being hurt  
worse than me, that is."  
  
"Nothing we can't handle, Fawkes, provided you do what you're told for a change." Hobbes shifted, taking  
Darien's arm about his shoulders and giving as much support as he could." When Monroe moved to Darien's  
other side, he dissuaded her. "I got him for now. You scout ahead a bit."  
  
Alex thought about it and nodded. Her eyesight might be flaky, but her ears were working just fine, and right  
now she could barely support herself, never mind Fawkes' weight. She moved a few yards in front of them,  
calling back warnings of unexpected obstacles hidden in the heavy underbrush, avoiding the stinging nettles  
they had all learned about the hard way, and paying attention to the forest around them for unusual activity.  
  
The next several hours would have been a wonderful afternoon hike in the woods on any other day, but they had  
little appreciation for the scenic views through the trees. The lovely rocky outcroppings and sharp drop-offs  
on this downhill slope would have made an interesting challenge to climb with the correct gear. Beautiful as  
it all was, it made things even more difficult. Trying to balance Fawkes while walking down a steep  
mountainside was just not the fun experience he'd imagined it to be.  
  
Hobbes may have been least injured of the three of them -- though he was far from unhurt -- but he was  
getting tired nearly as quickly as the other two simply because he had been practically carrying Darien for  
the last hour and a half. They'd been forced to stop twice as Monroe was overcome again by the nausea that  
refused to lessen. He knew she was quickly running out of energy, and maybe time as well, but he gave her  
credit for getting back up and staggering on.  
  
Alex had just gone down a third time, and Darien freaked when she began coughing up obvious blood. He started  
cursing everyone he could think of, starting with the Official and ending with god. Kevin, Eberts, and even  
Claire's dog Pavlov got mentioned during the impressive diatribe. He ended with a series of 'I told you so's'  
and 'I knew this was a bad idea from the start's' before Hobbes' glare shut him up. Hobbes just left him  
standing there, trying not to fall, as he went to help Monroe.  
  
Alex wasn't doing too well, feeling chilled on top of in pain at this point. The discomfort in her abdomen  
was like nothing she had ever felt before. A burning sensation that had surpassed the headache ages ago was  
making her want to curl up on the ground and moan in pain. She just about gagged on the water she tried to  
drink, and instead just rinsed out her mouth, spitting the blood-laden water onto the ground. "Hell," she  
muttered, lifting her head slowly to meet the concerned eyes of Bobby Hobbes.  
  
"We need to get you under cover, Monroe." Hobbes was still hoping that the nausea she was experiencing was  
from the head injury and not from having ripped her guts all to hell, but it was looking to be a faint hope.  
He helped her to her feet and caught her as she just about collapsed again, a groan of pain escaping from  
her. "Easy there," he said softly, easing her back to the ground.  
  
"Sorry, Hobbes. I feel like crap." Alex shivered and swallowed hard, fighting off another bout of nausea.  
She hated to admit it, but she wasn't going to make it much further.  
  
"So what now?" Darien was still shocked at how Monroe looked. Miss Always Perfect, always hiding behind that  
carefully controlled facade of disdain, was pale and trembling on the ground just a few short feet away and  
freely admitting she was not the super-woman she often pretended to be. In fact, from what he was overhearing  
of their conversation, she was not going to be going much further today.  
  
Hobbes got back to his feet and looked about. "Now, I'm going to find a place for you two to hole up." He  
spotted a downed tree nearby that had yet to be completely buried in the swiftly growing underbrush. Holding  
out a hand to Alex he helped her to slowly climb to her feet. Alex shook him off once upright, obviously not  
wanting any more help than absolutely necessary. Hobbes just shrugged and moved over to help Fawkes. Within  
minutes Darien and Alex were sitting in a hastily cleared out spot, leaning back against the huge tree. It  
wasn't the most comfortable place to be, but their choices were quite limited. Taking one bottle of water for  
himself he handed the rest of their supplies over to Fawkes.  
  
"Keep her awake if you can. If we are where I think we are, there should be a river nearby and a spot or two  
to hole up. Rest for a bit." He looked over Monroe again as he made a few adjustments to the pile of brush  
supporting Fawkes leg. "If I get you a staff, you think you can manage a bit on your own if necessary?"  
  
Darien cringed internally. The mere thought of putting any weight on his leg caused a dull ache to build, but  
he knew there might end up being very little choice. "I'll do what I have to, Hobbes."  
  
Hobbes nodded, knowing exactly how true that statement was from his partner. "Monroe, can you hold it  
together for another hour?"  
  
"Hobbes, does it look like I'm about to curl up in a ball and burst into tears?" she said in complete  
exasperation. "I'll be well enough in a few minutes. Find us that shelter." She lifted her head to look up  
at the bit of sky that could been seen through the canopy. "Looks like a storm is rolling in. Even if it  
doesn't rain, we're going to lose our orientation."  
  
"I know, but so long as we head downhill we should be okay. And our contact should have called out the  
cavalry by now." Hobbes pushed himself back to his feet. "If I'm not back in an hour, do what you can to get  
under cover for the night."  
  
"Hobbes, don't say crap like that. You just get your ass back here, preferably with a triple cheeseburger.  
I'm starved." Darien was doing his damnedest to cover the fear by joking with Bobby, but he wasn't sure how  
successful he was being, even though he did get a chuckle out of him.  
  
Alex groaned at the mention of food, her stomach rebelling, though not quite badly enough to send her to her  
knees again. "Just go, Hobbes, we'll be fine."  
  
He nodded and moved off, heading in the direction he hoped the river was. From what he remembered of the  
topographical map and where the little terrorist camp was, they should be close. And there should be caves in  
the area, caves that would offer them a place to get out of sight overnight and perhaps even the chance at  
getting a small fire started. Both Fawkes and Monroe would need to keep warm once darkness fell and, though  
it had been reasonably warm during the day, as soon as the sun went down the temp was going to drop. Leaving  
them exposed would only lessen their chances of surviving this.  
  
He'd been walking downhill for about fifteen minutes when he heard the distinctive sound of rushing water  
just off to his left. Angling in that direction, he soon found the river, rushing quickly through a gorge cut  
into the mountain by centuries of moving water. Straying closer to the edge, he looked over the area and soon  
found what he'd been hoping to. Caves. Several of them. Increasing his speed, he checked three of them before  
finding one that was suitable. The entrance was big enough for Fawkes to get in with little difficulty, though  
he would have to fight his way through the brush disguising the entrance to do so. The cave itself was more  
than deep enough to hide the trio back in the shadows, and the sounds of the water would cover any potential  
noises they might create, though the interior itself was fairly quiet, the sound of the water muffled by the  
thick walls of rock. Though it had been the home to a predator -- possibly a lynx or bobcat -- in the past,  
it was currently abandoned and the remains of meals could be easily swept aside and ignored.  
  
Digging out his knife from his boot, he carefully and subtly marked a nearby tree as a reminder and headed  
back to his partners, making sure to blaze the trail in a way only an expert would notice. At one point he  
thought he'd heard the baying of a hunting dog, but couldn't be sure. Still, he increased his pace and got  
back to the fallen tree well within the hour.  
  
Both were still awake, though it looked like they'd been arguing, perhaps Fawkes egging her on to keep her  
conscious. Hobbes wouldn't put it past him, and it wasn't like it was all that difficult to get Monroe riled.  
She was damn good agent, but their personalities just clashed on a regular basis. Though the same could also  
have been said of him and Fawkes at one time. Shepherding the kid around had to have been one of the most  
annoying assignments of his entire career, but it had been worth every sleepless night, every bit of  
irritation, every penny docked from his paycheck. Fawkes wasn't perfect, never would be, but he was good,  
damn good, and it had been more than worth the months of following him around and trying to keep him in line.  
  
Alex spotted him first and made sure not to show her relief that he'd made it back. She and Fawkes had been  
pretty much ignoring each other once she had convinced him to take another dose of Tylenol. At least until  
they heard the dogs baying in the distance. She knew the sound of hunting dogs when she heard them, which  
meant they were more likely to belong to the militia group that had shot them down, rather than a potential  
search party who would use trained bloodhounds. The sound was distorted, but it seemed to be coming from the  
direction of the plane.  
  
She then had to try and convince Fawkes that it was nothing to worry about, probably just some hunters out  
jack lighting deer for their dinner. He didn't believe her for one second. For someone who was so bad at  
telling lies himself, he was damn good at spotting one, even coming from someone who was trained in it.  
Admittedly she was not at the top of her game right now, but still he shouldn't have been able to spot any  
difference. He was just always suspicious and called her on it this time. "Hobbes, there's some hunters out  
there."  
  
"Damn, I was hoping I was mistaken." He helped her up and then Fawkes. "I found a place. We'll stash you two  
and then I'll draw off our guests."  
  
Darien shot a look at Alex. "So, we are being followed." Supported by Bobby, they made their slow way  
towards the hideaway he had found for them.  
  
"Yeah, Fawkes, we're being followed, and we don't think it's the good guys." Hobbes was reluctant to answer,  
but knew he had to at this point. He just hoped Fawkes would take it in stride and keep calm. Going see-thru  
would not be the best idea at the moment.... "Fawkes, how much time you got left?"  
  
Darien showed his wrist, still five segments green. "What do you want to do?"  
  
"I'm thinking the dogs might get confused if our scent suddenly stopped. They shouldn't have any idea what  
the quicksilver is. I'll stay outside and you two will disappear until hidden. The dogs should follow me and  
I'll circle round and join you after losing them." He had no idea if it would work, but was more than  
willing to try it. There was no way the two of them could easily defend themselves if cornered; neither was  
in any shape to.  
  
"Yeah, provided it's not for too long. Where you stashing us, anyway? I can't exactly climb a tree, you know."  
  
Hobbes chuckled. "Found a cave near the river. The sound'll cover any noise you make and you'll be out of  
sight."  
  
Alex stopped, frozen for a long moment. "Hobbes, that won't work."  
  
"Monroe, now is not the time for this. You won't be alone." He turned slightly to look at her. "We're  
running out of options real quick, girl. Give me another suggestion, anything, and I'll gladly take it."  
  
Darien watched this exchange in bemusement, but somehow knew better than to say anything. Alex's look had  
gone completely blank, revealing nothing. He'd seen that look before, most recently when he talked to her  
about her decision to give up her son for his protection. It had taken her slicing herself open on a broken  
glass to get her to break even a little. It was also one of the few occasions she'd loosened up enough to  
talk to him, to show him there really was a human being in there. It had served to remind him that this life,  
that being a secret agent, wasn't easy for anyone. There would always be hard decisions to make, and the  
chance at a family, at a personal life that could remain separate, was never likely to happen. Just look at  
what had happened with his father. Leaving his family to protect them and staying away for all these years.  
Darien was quick to realize he might never see him again no matter what he had said among the orange trees  
that day.  
  
Looking away from her, he focused on a new sound and recognized it after a moment as the roaring of water. He  
hoped that meant they were nearly there, as he was not only getting damn tired, but the light was swiftly  
beginning to fade, heralding the soon-to-come darkness.  
  
Alex ground her teeth together, but refused to snap at Hobbes. He was right, but that didn't mean she had to  
like it. Hell, in some ways, being alone would be easier than being stuck with an injured partner. "Just get  
us there."  
  
"This way." He motioned with his free and hand at a nearby tree and she picked up on the subtle blaze he'd  
left there. They plodded on for another couple hundred yards, the sound of rushing water getting louder with  
every limping step. "Can you follow them?" Hobbes asked Alex a few minutes later. "I think we should split  
off here."  
  
It was getting darker by the moment, but she nodded. The markings were done in a standard pattern she could  
follow in her sleep if necessary. "I got it, Hobbes." She shifted over next to Darien and took Hobbes' place  
supporting him. It wasn't that easy. Darien was quite a bit taller than her even when she wore heels, and for  
this trip she had worn far more sensible shoes. Darien literally had to brace a hand on one of her shoulders  
to balance at all.  
  
"This sucks," Darien commented. Not that it was any more fun for Monroe, since she had to support his weight  
while not falling over herself. "Hobbes, I don't like splitting up."  
  
"I know, Fawkes, but this time we don't have much choice." He turned to Monroe. "Get under cover and stay  
there. If I'm not back by morning..." If he wasn't back by morning, they were all going to be in a world of  
trouble.  
  
  
  
Alex stared forlornly at the entrance of the cave, hoping that, by some miracle, the darkness would not be  
nearly as complete as she knew it was going to be. Once Darien had been settled as comfortably as possible  
further in the cave, she'd moved back to the entrance. Ostensibly it had been to keep an eye out for their  
followers, but she knew it was more to be near freedom. Even freedom heavily screened by brush and ferns,  
even freedom that held perhaps more dangers than those inside this relative haven of safety.  
  
Hobbes had left them all the supplies, insisting he could manage just fine with what Mother Nature provided.  
In truth, Alex was too damn tired and in too much pain to argue with him. Getting Fawkes here quick enough to  
keep him from going into quicksilver madness had sapped the last of her strength. The nausea had abated for  
the moment, but her abdomen was nothing but one huge burning ache, and her head was not that much better.  
Still, she could walk, unlike Fawkes, who was currently dependent on her for pretty much everything at the  
moment.  
  
"What I wouldn't do for a drink right about now," she muttered under her breath.  
  
"Claustrophobia?" Darien asked in a soft voice. He knew the signs of a phobia at work and saw it as soon as  
they had neared the cave entrance. With Monroe the signs were subtle, but there. He'd known her just long  
enough to pick up on it when her confidence was forced, and she was holding on with teeth and toenails from  
the looks of it.  
  
Alex turned to face him. He was nothing more than a dark outline in the dim light, and soon he'd be invisible  
without the need of that fancy over-priced gland in his thick skull. The coming darkness would be so complete  
that they would be able to see nothing. "Why would you think a thing like that?"  
  
"Monroe, ease up. It's just the two of us here, and I do have a phobia or two of my own." He paused, looking  
her over. Trying to judge how far he might be able to push her this time. "I'm not gonna run home and tell the  
Official, if that's what you're worried about." She shook her head. "Then what? Maybe I can help."  
  
She snorted and turned away, looking back out to watch the last bit of light fade, leaving them enveloped in  
darkness. She shuddered, not wanting the memories to come back yet again, the way they always did. Damn that  
SWRB bastard for reminding her that she could be just as weak as any other woman. He'd known exactly what he  
was doing by tossing her into that cement dungeon, had known what it would do to her, and probably had known  
more than enough to break her, given a bit of time and very little effort. Everyone had an Achilles heel. It  
just so happened that some of the wrong people knew about hers. "Fawkes, you and your partner may think you  
are the end-all, be-all of the Agency, but it's far from the truth. I'm fine."  
  
"Like you were fine after deciding to give up James?" Darien might not be able to see her, but he could hear  
just fine. Her sharp intake of breath and the sound of movement let him know he'd hit home with his comment.  
He was not surprised when he felt her settle nearby just seconds later. He could almost feel the anger  
radiating off of her.  
  
"Thank you so much for reminding me of the biggest mistake in my life," she snarled at him. Now she wanted a  
drink more than ever. Some nights it seemed to be the only thing that allowed her to get some semblance of  
sleep. Never again would she distrust her gut instinct about someone, but that woman's -- Eleanor Stark's --  
way with James, her obvious competence, her seeming understanding of Alex's own insecurities, had won Monroe  
over and led her into the worst choice she'd ever made in her life.  
  
"Alex, I didn't mean it that way and you know it." Darien shifted, twisting his neck a bit. The headache was  
already beginning, but he should still be okay for a while. Sometimes, when the stress level was high enough,  
the headaches, the warnings that he was pushing his luck, would begin a bit early. When he'd checked after  
getting in the cave, three segments had still been green. Not that it mattered all that much. He wouldn't be  
able to walk any more while quicksilver mad than he could right now. He smiled in the darkness at the thought  
of himself red-eyed and hopping about the woods on one leg. Oh yes, let all the forest creatures fear him.  
Tarzan he was not. Heck, he didn't even qualify as George of the Jungle. Darien the Dead, or Fawkes the  
Foolish, was far more likely if Hobbes didn't find them some help.  
  
"Look, if you want to talk about it, I'm here and not going anywhere in a hurry."  
  
That got a quickly stifled chuckle out of her that turned into a groan of pain. Laughing was a bad thing at  
the moment and just caused another round of agony to shoot through her guts. "I know what you meant, Fawkes.  
It's just not very easy to talk about, and the current situation is only adding to it."  
  
"So it's an incident-related phobia and not a genetic one?" His own fear of spiders went back to an  
adventure as a kid, and it wasn't till Kevin had overdone the spider theme to get the gland working that it  
had finally eased. It was still there, though -- was there right now, in fact, wondering if any of the eight  
legged buggers were crawling towards him in the darkness, were planning on finding their way into his hair or  
under his clothes. It was his turn to shudder now and force those thoughts away.  
  
"Yes." She shifted closer to him, his warmth a palatable presence that could be felt a short distance away.  
"It was early in my career. My partner at the time was an older gentlemen, much like Hobbes in fact, and we  
screwed up chasing after some suspects. We were forced off the road and left trapped with the car half buried  
in debris." She closed her eyes, shutting out the false flashes of light her optical nerves was trying to  
create, and instead found herself back in that car. The mud and dirt the pouring rain had loosened closing in  
upon the car. The light fading as they were buried.  
  
Alex felt Darien's hand settle on her thigh and she knew it was to establish contact, perhaps offer comfort,  
and no more than that. She'd probably never admit it, but she was thankful that he felt able to, that he was  
willing to reach out to her, both in the past and present, and that he somehow saw past the face she made  
sure to show the world at large. This was a hard business, a hard life, and there was very little opportunity  
to just be one's self. It was also too damn dangerous.  
  
"We were there for almost three days before they found us. By then Kirkland had died. Bled to death. And the  
car had been buried in such a way that he'd been above me." She barely got the words out. By the time they'd  
been found she'd been ready to die herself. The man had screamed his voice raw once regaining consciousness,  
and nothing she had said or done had helped or calmed him in the least. His screams had eventually turned  
into moans and whimpers. The only times she had gotten peace had been when he'd passed out again. She had  
tried to get out, tried to free them, but not only had the car been nearly encased in the mud, but the  
vehicle itself had warped from the pressure. It had trapped Kirkland against the steering wheel, and allowed  
her to do little more than unbuckle and squirm a bit. There had been no place to go and no light to see with.  
  
"Christ, Alex, I'm sorry. It must have been..." Darien couldn't find the words to describe the horrific  
images that filled his mind. It was little wonder she had a touch of claustrophobia. "My being injured is  
making it worse, isn't it? Subconsciously, you think it'll happen again."  
  
Alex nodded and then remembered her couldn't see her. "Not your fault, Fawkes. I can handle it. It's just not  
very enjoyable."  
  
"Not much is very enjoyable these days," Darien muttered, and then wished he hadn't. His life was crappy  
enough without her harping on it.  
  
"You really want out don't you? What would you do? Go back to your life of crime?" Alex was actually  
curious. For all that his lack of discipline grated on her nerves, that he tended to complain -- often and  
loudly -- he was surprisingly good at his job and had insights that people in the business would never think  
of.  
  
"Yeah, I want out, but not at the cost of more lives. Too many people have gotten hurt or killed because of  
this stupid gland." Darien leaned back against the wall and tried to relax. He was tired, worn out, not just  
from today but from all the revelations of the last several months. If it wasn't one thing it was a dozen  
others. "Some days I wonder what the hell is the point. If someone isn't trying to kill me over it, I'm  
killing someone because of the side effects. I may have been a thief and a con, but I was never a killer."  
  
Alex was surprised once again to the depth of emotion he displayed. "Fawkes, while you certainly wouldn't  
have been my first choice, or last for that matter, you've done some good work. I've read up on some of the  
things you've done. You have no idea how much you've accomplished, do you?"  
  
"That's right, try and make the poor injured man feel better, before he dies. Do I get a last request?" He  
did his best to leer at her with his voice, and hoped she'd take it the way he intended it.  
  
Alex smiled and set her hand atop his, her tension and fear easing. "Thank you." Before he could say  
something else, something that might lead them down the wrong path, she continued. "Get some sleep, Fawkes.  
I'm betting we're going to need it."  
  
Darien shifted his hand, wrapping his arm about her shoulders by feel and pulling her closer. He ignored it  
when she stiffened and tried to resist. "Alex, it's going to get cold. Just get over here. And call me  
Darien. We're not a mission any longer."  
  
Alex stopped fighting him and, as gently as possible, curled up against him. They wouldn't freeze to death or  
even really suffer overnight, but even she couldn't justify sleeping and shivering separately. "Just keep it  
clean... Darien. I can still flatten your ass, even like this."  
  
"That's right, tease me while I'm incapacitated. Not exactly fair." He was mildly surprised when she didn't  
make any comment and just curled up a bit more, sharing her body heat with him. Within minutes he was sure  
she was out, her breathing even and regular. With a sigh he leaned his head back and allowed himself to drift  
off as well, the headache and dull throbbing of his leg distant annoyances as the need for sleep intruded.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	3. Chapter 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Part 3  
  
  
Bobby Hobbes was never one for running from danger. No, he preferred to face it head on and take it  
down if at all possible. Strategic retreat he understood the necessity of, but this... this was a  
pain in the ass. There had been other occasions in his career when he'd led the bad guys on a merry  
chase, usually right into a trap set up by his buddies, his team mates, his partners. This time,  
however, he was simply trying to shake the SOB's from his tail. These guys were good. Damn good.  
But Bobby Hobbes was better.  
  
"And there is no way in hell Bobby Hobbes is going to leave his partners high and dry," he muttered  
aloud.  
  
The cloud cover was reflecting just enough light to allow him to make his way with some semblance  
of ease. He wasn't moving fast, but he also wasn't tripping over every stray root, rock, or mystery  
object hidden in the underbrush. He knew he should be tired, but the adrenaline was still flowing.  
Though it might seem odd, the fun of leading the bad guys by the nose, of tricking them, was  
keeping him more than awake enough. Afterwards, he knew he'd collapse and sleep the clock 'round to  
make up for it, but for now he was doing just fine.  
  
He hadn't heard the dogs for almost an hour now. A damn good sign that he'd finally lost them.  
Wandering up that stream had obviously done the trick. Leading false trails away from the water for  
a hundred yards or so in random spots -- being careful to follow his own steps back to the water --  
had probably confused the hell out of the mutts and their owners. By sound and his internal  
compass, he made his way back to the main river and was following it back up the mountainside,  
knowing that eventually he'd end up back near where he'd left Fawkes and Monroe. If he was lucky,  
he might even be able to grab a couple hours sleep before hiking back down to where rescue should  
be waiting. Through a break in the trees he'd seen the lights of a least one small town, which  
meant roads somewhere hidden among the trees. It was just a matter of getting there.  
  
There was a low growl off to his right. Bobby froze, not sure of its source. It might be nothing  
more than a fox he had accidentally crossed paths with in the darkness. Sniffing, he caught no  
scent -- the light breeze was coming from the wrong direction. He took another step, and the  
growling increased, joined by another, deeper voice. Moments later, a third joined in. Then the  
baying began. The traditional 'treed' call that would inform the owners that the pack had cornered  
its prey.  
  
"Crap," Hobbes cursed aloud as one of the dogs, a big monster for a hunting dog, moved to within  
inches of him, forcing him to back away until he bumped up against a tree. No weapons, not even a  
god damned stick to beat the beast away from him. The other two moved up alongside their pack  
leader and joined in the snarl-fest, which was more than effective enough to keep Hobbes in place.  
  
"Well, looky here. We done gone an' treed ourselves a federal agent. My, my, won't Logan be  
impressed."  
  
Hobbes' head snapped up, tracking and then focusing on the owner of the voice as he stepped out of  
the darkness and close enough to be seen. With a mental snarl, Hobbes noticed the night vision  
goggles the guy was wearing. High quality military ones, not the second- or third-hand rejects that  
could be found in issues of Guns&Ammo or Weekend Huntsman. These guys were connected if they had  
gear like this. Hobbes tensed, preparing to do whatever he could to get away. His partners, his  
friends, were depending on him to stay free. To get them help, or at least get back to them and  
keep them alive another day.  
  
The guy must have guessed what Hobbes was thinking. "I wouldn't iffen I was you. These boys have  
been trained to take down deserters without doing too much damage."  
  
Hobbes looked from the dogs to the P-90 Army-issue weapon the guy was casually wielding and relaxed  
his stance. There would be a better time, a better chance to get away. He slowly raised his hands in  
the traditional sign of surrender and watched as the man slowly nodded.  
  
Pulling out a radio the guy spoke softly. "Got 'im. Meet you at R-14 in," he paused, thinking,  
"twenty minutes. Out." Reaching in his pocket, he came out with a set of cuffs to which a long  
chain was attached. "Don't get any ideas. One word and Beulah here with gladly rip out your throat,  
or other tastier body parts." The guy gestured with his gun, making it unmistakable what Beulah's  
preferred target was.  
  
Hobbes was stunned to realize the pack leader, the big beast growling at him, teeth just inches  
from his crotch, was a bitch. What was it with vicious women in his life lately? At least Claire,  
tough as she was, had a soft side. Right now he'd rather be helping her down in the Keep, or even  
doing -- ugh -- filing with Eberts in the Archives. He hated it when Fawkes was right.  
  
He didn't argue as his arms were jerked behind his back and the cuffs were snapped about his wrists  
uncomfortably tight. Didn't complain when he was shoved violently into motion. Didn't say a word  
when the dogs were called off to pant happily at the feet of their handler, munching joyfully on  
the treats he handed out. Didn't mention the fact that the guy knew he was a federal agent, which  
meant that someone had told them they were coming, and that they might very well have been set up.  
Their chances of getting out of this alive had just been halved.  
  
Hobbes wasn't sure how long they stumbled through the darkened forest, but it seemed far longer  
than twenty minutes. The only conversation involved curt words to tell him which way to go, and the  
occasional snarl of a dog if he seemed to be even contemplating fighting back or trying to escape.  
Eventually they joined up with a group huddled about a small fire. A pot of some unidentifiable  
food substance was warming over the flames, and Hobbes could smell the coffee that had been brewed  
in the cast-iron kettle resting on a rock next to the fire.  
  
"'Ere he is, Logan." The guy shoved Hobbes in the back of his legs, forcing him to his knees. With  
his hands behind his back, he was almost forced onto his face, but he kept his balance.  
  
Logan came out of the shadows and stood before Hobbes. "Where did you hide them?" His voice was  
smooth, calm, pleasant even, but Bobby didn't buy it for a second. There was something darker under  
the friendly tone and charismatic smile. He didn't seem the least bit surprised that Hobbes did  
nothing more than look up at him. "You drew us off quite expertly, but we'll find them. And once we  
do, we'll have everything we need to get those feds down the mountain to leave us alone." Looking  
away from Hobbes, he barked orders. "Head back to where the trail split off and begin searching.  
There are plenty of caves in the area. He probably stashed them in one of them. Keep in contact."  
  
The guy who had caught Hobbes handed the length of chain over to Logan and whistled for the dogs.  
He and five others, along with a half dozen other dogs, headed out into the night. Logan played  
idly with the chain for a moment, watching Hobbes carefully. He moved over to the fire and pulled  
out a metal poker that had been sitting among the coals. The far end was a glowing red eye in the  
darkness and Hobbes tensed, fearing what was to come. Torture was something he had a little  
experience with. He had more than a few scars on his body from previous attempts to get him to  
talk. Some had been more successful than others.  
  
The heated end was moved to right in front of his face, close enough for him to feel the heat  
coming off of it, and held there for a long uneasy moment, but Hobbes held his ground, glaring up  
at Logan. After a long tense moment, the poker moved and was thrust into a nearby bucket of water.  
Hissing, as steam poured up into the cool air. "Pack it up. We're heading back." He focused on  
Hobbes. "Then we're going to have a little chat."  
  
The smile he gave Hobbes was more than enough to make him realize that he was in very deep trouble  
and that the man before him was completely insane.  
  
  
  
Cold. Eyes opening to see dim gray light leaking in about the brush and plants at the cave  
entrance, his mind reiterated the previous realization -- damn cold. Shifting, he groaned as the  
assorted aches and pains from the previous day awoke anew, only worse, as sore and abused muscles  
had stiffened up as well. At some point during the night he'd ended up curled on the hard packed  
dirt of the floor, which gave off no warmth at all. Which reminded him again of what had woken him  
up -- he was shivering, lacking the warmth that had been there. Shifting slowly, he looked around  
for Alex.  
  
"Alex?" he called out in a barely audible voice. Clearing his throat he tried again. "Monroe, where  
are you?"  
  
"Right here, Fawkes. Calm down." She pushed her way through the brush and joined him on the floor  
of the cave.  
  
"Sorry, you okay?" She wasn't looking so good. The bruise on her forehead had blossomed overnight,  
one eye half-filled with blood from the hit she had taken. Her nose was swollen, as was her upper  
lip. He could only imagine what her abdomen looked like, or how it must feel.  
  
"Okay, as in alive? That I am. I..." she almost looked embarrassed. "Call of nature, Fawkes." True  
enough, but she had also spent a good five minutes leaning against a tree as her stomach tried to  
get rid of the water she had forced herself to drink due to severe thirst. She had spent the time  
fighting her own natural urges, but in the end had won. The water had stayed down -- for now. "Go  
back to sleep. Hobbes isn't back, but he may have holed up for a nap."  
  
But the mention of a call of nature had made him aware of his own needs in that department. "Uh,  
Alex...." Damn, this was uncomfortable in several ways. "A trip to the little boys room might be a  
good idea for me as well." He expected a tired sigh, or perhaps a look of irritation, but instead  
got a simple nod.  
  
Getting slowly to her feet, being very careful about how she moved, she held out a hand to help him  
up. Between her help and bracing a hand on the wall, Darien was able to get to his feet. It hurt,  
hurt like hell, but he was able to do it. They made their way outside and headed for the nearest  
stand of trees.  
  
"You can handle this part, Fawkes, can't you? I am not going to...."  
  
Darien cut her off with a choked laugh. "I'll manage, Alex. The day I need help for this, I better  
be on my death-bed." That earned a grin from her -- lopsided due to the swelling of her face --  
but a real grin before she wandered off, allowing him to do what was necessary. As soon as that  
need was taken care of, he assessed his overall condition. His head hurt, bruised and lumpy where  
it had collided with the side of the plane. Headache from the gland, too, but not all that bad of  
one. Checking the tattoo, he saw it was still on three, but knew that wouldn't last much longer. He  
had a little over a day before he hit Stage Four. If they were still out here by then, they were  
probably dead anyway.  
  
His abdomen was a painful ache, reminding him of the numerous occasions he'd been beaten both in  
prison and out. It was something he could deal with -- not enjoy, but he could function. His leg  
was still a mess. The knee was swollen tight against the cloth of his pants. Testing it, he  
gingerly set his foot on the ground and tried to put weight on it. With no luck. His knee screamed  
its unhappiness at him and nearly caused him to fall to the ground. "Well, that wasn't all that  
smart," he complained at himself.  
  
That's when he heard a shout from Alex. Moving as quickly as he could, hopping from tree to tree,  
wishing Hobbes had found him that staff, he stumbled upon a fight. One guy in dark green camouflage  
was holding onto the leashes of three dogs, watching the proceedings, while two others were fighting  
with Alex. It was obvious to Darien that, although she was doing her best, she was far too injured  
to be successful. "Hey!!" Darien shouted, distracting one long enough to allow Alex to get in one  
really good punch that knocked the guy to the ground, from where he didn't even try to get up. Guy  
number two, however, swung with his rifle, catching Alex in the stomach and driving her to the  
ground with a scream.  
  
The dogs were suddenly all around Darien, snarling and growling. No matter how tempting it might be  
to at least try and get away, he knew it would only get him hurt more, or worse, get both himself  
and Alex killed. So he froze in place, doing nothing more than support himself and watch Alex who  
was holding her abdomen as if afraid her insides were going to leak out all over the ground.  
  
"Alex..." He stopped as a two of three guns swung towards him.  
  
"Your bitch will survive," one rancid-looking man commented, then let fly with a vicious kick that  
connected with Alex's back.  
  
"Bastard," Alex shouted and tried to get to her feet. That kick had hurt, but it also pissed her  
the hell off. Being called a bitch was something she had gotten used to over the years, but she had  
the oddest feeling he meant something a little different by it. The guy's next words confirmed this.  
  
"Shut up, bitch. Mind your place, or I'll have your tongue cut out." He kicked at her again, but  
never connected. Alex rolled and grabbed the foot as it swung at her. With as much strength as she  
could muster, she caught the heel and shoved upwards, causing the guy to go over backwards and land  
on his ass with a grunt.  
  
The man who'd been holding the dogs swung with his rifle and caught her on the side of the head,  
knocking her to the ground with a yelp.  
  
"Alex!" Darien shouted, wishing he could do something, anything to help her. "Leave her alone."  
  
The guy she'd helped to the ground got to his feet, his look dark. Grasping a handful of hair, he  
dragged Alex to her feet. "Girl, you *will* learn your place."  
  
Alex spat in his face.  
  
The wrong thing to do, as the guy proceeded to precisely and methodically beat her. Ignoring the  
dogs, who surprisingly enough moved out of his way, Darien hopped over to the guy and shouldered  
him aside. Both of them fell to the ground, but it was enough to get him to release Alex, who  
collapsed and lay unmoving.  
  
Darien screamed as he landed on his injured knee. The snap he heard scared him, and he hoped it was  
just one of the branches of the splint and not something else, but for the moment he was in too much  
pain to care. "Leave her alone," he growled out past the pain. The guy he'd knocked down swung, and  
Darien was unable to dodge. The fist connected with the bruise on the side of his head and drove  
him forcefully into unconsciousness.  
  
Alex screamed, "No!" as she watched Darien get hit. She was still stunned that he'd gone after the  
guy beating her. She'd been trying to protect him, maybe keep the trio busy long enough for Hobbes  
to arrive, but the brave fool had to decide to defend her instead, and now he was lying on the  
leaves and debris of the forest floor, bleeding and breathing harshly.  
  
"I'll warn you once. No speaking unless you are asked a question. Understand?" The guy was pissed  
and was fingering the hunting knife strapped to his thigh.  
  
Alex only nodded in response. Alive. She needed to keep herself and Darien alive until rescue  
arrived. That was all that mattered.  
  
"Good. Now get up." When she failed to do so, he stepped closer to her.  
  
It wasn't that Alex was trying to challenge him, she was simply in so much pain that getting to her  
feet was nearly impossible.  
  
"Get up!"  
  
She tried again, attempting to gather her legs beneath her, but her body rebelled, new bruises  
combining with old to sap her strength. "I can't..." she tried to explain, only to see a fist  
swinging at her. It connected with more than enough force to send her to join Darien in  
unconsciousness. Part of her was relieved -- even though she was no longer truly aware of the world  
about her, she was thankful it was all over.  
  
  
  
Hobbes stared out the barred window of this elaborate encampment, fuming. These guys were more than  
good; they were pros. This was no Waco, no passel of religious fanatics preparing for their version  
of Armageddon. These were people recruited, lured, or even bought by this Logan character. Near as  
Hobbes could tell, the guy was former military. Though what branch he couldn't be sure, it was a  
good bet he was a former black ops member, probably a squad leader. Rangers, SEALs, maybe something  
deeper. The military hid a lot of secret squads and covert ops teams.  
  
The buildings were all low to the ground and painted to blend in with the forest surrounding them.  
Some even wandered in between trees, built around the trunks instead of removing the trees. Others  
had ground cover plants growing on the roofs, making them indistinguishable from the rest of the  
landscape when viewed from the air. No wonder the intel on this operation was so off, the only  
visible buildings were plants, used for storage only. Built from wood and prefab metal forms,  
including one quonset hut, they were the bait, the distraction, and it had worked.  
  
At a guess there were fifty men here, using the term loosely. He'd seen kids barely hitting puberty  
carrying around high-end armament and obviously knowing how to use it. He knew there were women and  
kids as well, he'd heard them, but hadn't seen any and couldn't judge how many there might be. The  
intel they had said twenty women and at least that many children ten or younger.  
  
Turning away from the window, he looked over his current accommodations yet again. It was a box  
about ten feet on a side. Concrete walls, floor, and roof. One door of heavy steel, with the hinges  
on the outside, and one window, the bars so close together he could just fit two fingers between  
them and no more. There was a mattress on the floor -- old, but clean -- and a couple of blankets,  
army navy store rejects that would keep him warm enough if he was still stuck here come nightfall.  
  
There was also a small sink with a hand pump, so he wouldn't suffer from thirst, and an oubliette  
for those unavoidable bodily functions. Primitive, but he had dealt with worse in his years. This  
was almost luxurious by prisoner-of-war standards. His stomach rumbled then, reminding him it had  
been a long time since breakfast the previous morning.  
  
He wasn't sure what to do. He was hungry, tired, and angry. He had let his partners down. Screwed  
up and been captured, leaving them alone to try and fend for themselves while injured, or perhaps  
worse if Monroe's injuries were as bad as he feared. "Damn it."  
  
Well, at least Logan hadn't chosen to have that 'talk' with him yet. Moving over to the mattress,  
Hobbes decided that if he was going to have any chance, to be able to even try and escape, he would  
need to sleep first. Curling up, he dragged one of the blankets up for a makeshift pillow, squirmed  
till comfortable, and then fell into the waiting arms of slumber.  
  
He was jerked out of a most pleasant dream by shouting. Coming instantly awake, he got to his feet  
and moved over to the window in time to see an unconscious Monroe being dragged into one of the  
other buildings. "Oh, crap." This could not be good. If they had caught Monroe, they must have  
Fawkes as well.  
  
As if he had requested it, the door banged open at that moment and his semi-conscious partner was  
dragged in and dumped onto the mattress without so much as a word. The two standing outside the  
door made a point of training their weapons at Hobbes. He waited until the door had been shut and  
audibly locked before moving to Fawkes, who was trying to roll over onto his back and groaning in  
pain.  
  
"Slowly, my friend." Hobbes helped him get onto his back and gave him the once-over. The wound on  
his head had been reopened and had bled freely for some time, though the blood was now drying. The  
splints holding his leg immobile had been snapped at some point and ignored. Probing gently he  
found the knee itself in about the same state as before, thankfully. Given the existing damage, it  
wouldn't take much effort at all to trash it completely. Moving his hands, he checked ribs and  
abdomen getting a moan of pain, but not much else. It appeared that no new injuries had been added.  
He stripped off the ruined splints and propped the leg up with one of the blankets under the knee.  
"What happened, Fawkes?"  
  
Darien opened his eyes and tried to focus on Hobbes, without much success. The fist to his head had  
not helped him a whole hell of a lot in the pain department, and his knee was very unhappy after  
he'd not only landed on it, but been dragged through the woods for who knew how long. He'd just  
begun to come to as they reached this... this place. Then they'd spilt up him and Alex and tossed  
his ass in here. Thank god Bobby was all right.  
  
"They found us." It hurt to talk right now, making his head throb anew with every movement. "They  
beat the crap out of Monroe. I did what I could, but..." He trailed off, guilt eating at him.  
There had to have been something more that he could have done.  
  
"Fawkes, you did everything you could, I am quite sure." He went to the sink and filled the tin  
cup with water, then brought it back for Darien to sip at. "Where did they take her?"  
  
"Not sure. Said something about the 'nursery'." He shook his head, not sure what that meant or  
even if he had heard it right. "Bobby, she's gonna get herself killed. Women here are treated like  
chattel, property, slaves. Alex is too damn tough to bow down before anyone. One bastard already  
threatened to cut out her tongue."  
  
"She's also smart and can play a role with the best of them. She'll be okay, Fawkes." Hobbes looked  
out the window at the building that Monroe had been taken to. It was a good bet that all the women  
and younger children were housed together. Probably some used for the cooking and cleaning, and all  
used for sex with little regard to relationships to the men. He'd heard of communes like this and,  
yes, some women came willingly into them. Others, however, were beaten down until they either  
submitted or were killed. It made him even more impressed with the woman who had walked down the  
mountain to report what was going on.  
  
Darien sat up and pushed himself back until he was leaning against the wall. "You think so?" He  
rubbed the back of his neck, two headaches competing for his attention.  
  
"I know so, Fawkes. She didn't get that fancy-schmancy rating through blackmail alone." He checked  
out the limited area he could see, noting where the guards were stationed, noting the satellite  
dishes and HAM radio equipment just within his viewing range off to the right. They were very  
careful to avoid walking in the few open areas, where they might be spotted from above by planes or  
even spy satellites.  
  
"Will they look for us? Or are we on a 'Mission Impossible' here?" Darien lowered his voice and  
intoned, "If captured, we will disavow any knowledge of your mission."  
  
"Fawkes, I think you've forgotten how stingy the Fat Man is. At the very least he'll come for the  
gland." Hobbes was pleased when that earned a smile from Fawkes. "Speaking of the gland, how're  
you doing on the juice?"  
  
Darien held up is wrist to let Bobby see for himself. Two were left green; one had changed while he  
was being dragged over the river and through the woods, so to speak. He was thankful he'd been out  
cold for most of that; he was betting they'd been less than gentle and that it would have hurt like  
hell had he been conscious. "Gonna get nasty soon."  
  
Hobbes nodded and squatted down next to him. "I may have an idea or two that'll even up our chances  
a bit, but it'll be risky on your part."  
  
Darien thought about it, knowing Bobby was going to want him to use the quicksilver for whatever  
plan he had stirring on the edges of his mind. Unless rescue rode in within the next few hours, he  
was headed for a trip to id city no matter what. If he channeled the anger, the hate, the  
less-than-pleasant desires towards those holding them, he might just be of some use. "I'll do what  
I can."  
  
Hobbes nodded. With the right situation, Fawkes would risk everything to do the right thing. Hobbes  
was torn, though. Should they just try to escape and get help? Should they do what they could to  
disable and disarm these guys so that when the good guys rode in the fight would be minimal? They  
had to get a message out, which meant getting to the communications room.  
  
Getting to his feet he went back to the window. As he watched, Logan appeared from the building  
that Monroe had been taken to, along with two other men. After a moment's discussion, they headed  
towards the cell he and Fawkes were in. "Company, coming."  
  
Darien didn't want to be a literal sitting duck when they arrived and tried to get to his feet. His  
muscles protested and his head swam in a dizzying manner, making him groan aloud and settle right  
back into his original position.  
  
"Fawkes, stay put and stay calm. The last thing we need is for these guys to find out about your  
little talent." Hobbes moved into a slightly better position, one that would make it obvious to  
those coming in he planned on defending Fawkes, come what may. "At least not until we want them to."  
  
Darien nodded in agreement. There wasn't a whole lot he could do, anyway, and quicksilvering right  
this second would do nothing more than bring him that much closer to madness. When the door swung  
open, two men with guns stepped in first, watching Hobbes carefully. They took up stations to  
either side of the door as Logan walked in behind them.  
  
"Well, gentlemen, we need to talk."  
  
"Where's Alex?" Darien asked, before Hobbes got a chance to say anything.  
  
"Agent Monroe is fine for the moment. One of my corpsmen is looking her over. The crash was a bit  
harder on her than we planned." He narrowed his eyes slightly watching Darien carefully. "If she  
behaves, she'll come to no harm."  
  
"Behaves. Why do I not like the sound of that?" Hobbes commented, knowing it would probably  
irritate the man.  
  
"She won't, either, but she'll learn her place soon enough." Logan stepped forward until he stood  
less than a foot from Hobbes. "You are going to tell me what I want to know."  
  
"Or what? You'll torture me?"  
  
"No. I'll torture him." Logan waved at Darien, who did his best not to react to the threat. "I  
have the feeling you'll protect him, the same way he tried to protect Agent Monroe."  
  
"How the hell do you know who we are?" The question slipped out past Darien's lips before he could  
prevent it.  
  
Logan laughed softly. "We've known who you were since the FBI called for your help." When Hobbes  
looked at him in confusion, he continued. "When you know all the codes, it's a simple matter to  
unscramble the signals."  
  
"Crap," Hobbes muttered. "Then what is all this about? We're just some agents from BWM."  
  
Logan laughed. "I know all about the Agency, and I know he," Logan pointed at Darien, "is something  
special. Though, at the moment, I can't see what."  
  
"Look, we ain't gonna help you. Probably can't help you, and Monroe needs to get off this mountain  
and to a doctor...." Hobbes was interrupted.  
  
"Then you will do what I say without argument, or I will let my men use her as they wish." Hobbes  
glared at him. "She won't fight back all that much, restrained, and we do know how to restrain our  
women."  
  
"Damn it, just leave her alone!" Darien shouted at the man.  
  
"How odd. You want to protect her. She wants to protect you. Our contacts gave me the impression  
that neither of you cared for her very much." Logan watched both men carefully, but Hobbes made  
sure to give away nothing, and Darien got control of himself, knowing he was only helping the  
bastard by reacting.  
  
"Who do you think you are, anyway?" Hobbes growled softly.  
  
"We are an embarrassment. A mistake that our beloved government has been trying to *fix* for five  
years." He looked from Darien to Hobbes, as if debating how much to say. "If it wasn't for that  
bitch..." he snarled, then took a deep breath and composed himself. "You are going to make sure  
they leave us alone, or I will see to it your friend here never walks again."  
  
"And I'm telling you there is nothing we can do." Hobbes crossed his arms over his chest and shook  
his head. It was entirely possible that the Official might just pull the strings these guys wanted  
to get Fawkes -- or at least the gland -- back, but he couldn't let this guy know that.  
  
"Why?" Darien asked quietly from his position on the floor. "What did you do?"  
  
"Our jobs, just like we were supposed to. Only we did them too well." Logan walked around Hobbes  
and looked out of the window, at the haven he'd created. "They wanted the perfect soldiers, the  
perfect fighting machines for impossible missions. Me and my team volunteered for the program. They  
did their little reprogramming and sent us back to work." One hand came up to run through his hair.  
"It was year before we were called for a deep cover mission. Before they activated the programming  
buried in our psyches. It worked. We became the killing machines they wanted. We did the job and  
sent back the intel, leaving no survivors, no witnesses. Civilian, military, adult, child -- it  
didn't matter, we slaughtered them. Better yet, we enjoyed it. There was only one problem." He  
turned his head to look at Darien. "We survived."  
  
Hobbes had turned about to watch the man. "So? That's usually a good thing."  
  
Logan snorted. "Yeah, you'd think. But it left them with a dilemma. You see, they'd figured out how  
to program us, how to make us be all that we could be, but they hadn't figured out how to turn us  
back."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4  
  
  
With a stifled scream and an outflung hand, Alex returned to consciousness to find herself holding  
the wrist of a total stranger in a room she didn't recognize. Throwing the hand she held away from  
her, she growled, "Get away from me," and tried to back away on the bed that she found herself  
lying on.  
  
The guy glanced over at something. Suddenly a pair of harried looking women were at her side, but  
instead of helping, they held her down. Her arms were drawn up over her head by one while the other  
sat on her ankles, holding her in place. She struggled all the harder, trying to ignore the pain  
that shot through her head and abdomen. She tried to keep the moan inside, to keep her look blank,  
but she failed and the guy caught it.  
  
Lifting what was obviously a field triage kit, he showed it to her. "I'm just trying to examine  
you, gauge the severity of your injuries, and you are only going to make it worse by fighting."   
The man had no bedside manner; his tone was flat and uncaring.  
  
"No thanks," Alex snapped. "I would rather--" Her next words were cut off as his hand whipped out  
and grabbed her painfully by the jaw.  
  
"You are wearing my patience thin. You will do as you are told and you will not say another word  
unless I ask you a direct question." His tone hadn't changed in the least, but Alex caught the  
look of fright on the face of the woman at her ankles. When she gave a tiny shake of her head, Alex  
got the hint and stopped struggling.  
  
"Better." He lifted up her shirt and got a look at the bruises visible over the top edge of her  
jeans. She stifled the urge to fight as he unbuttoned the jeans and slid them down her hips to  
examine her, then all the fight went out of her as he palpitated her abdomen. She couldn't stop the  
groan of pain that escaped, but he apparently didn't consider this a punishable offense. He ignored  
the tears that trickled unstoppably down her cheeks as he continued his examination. "Vomiting?" he  
asked coldly.  
  
"Yes." She bit off the word as he pressed down in another spot.  
  
"Better or worse after I release the pressure?" He repeated the action in the same spot as before.  
  
"Worse," she got out around a moan of pain, wondering just what the hell he was up to. His hands  
moved then, checking her hips and then higher, running over her ribs front and back and then, much  
to her disgust, over her breasts. Caressing them until she shuddered in reaction.  
  
He got a sick smile across his face at her reaction and then, with a last caress, this one inside  
the cup of her bra to tweak the nipple, he slid her shirt back down and pulled a pen light out of  
the bag. She flinched in reaction to the light being shined in her eyes, but didn't complain this  
time. She knew damn well she had a concussion and, from the chilled and achy feel to the rest of  
her, was probably running a fever at this point. He proceeded to continue through the routine,  
taking her blood pressure and temperature as well. When a syringe and vial appeared in his hands,  
she started struggling again. "Antibiotics," he commented, even as he swiped a spot on her arm with  
an alcohol wipe and injected it into her. "You're running a fever, probably due to internal  
injuries. You have a concussion, which is helping to cause the nausea." He packed the items back  
in his bag. "After I speak to Logan, I'll see about getting you some painkillers." He got to his  
feet and, with a flick of his wrist, got the two women to release her.  
  
Alex struggled to sit up, not liking feeling this defenseless, not liking the knowledge that she  
was probably going to die here. Wherever here was. Not liking that she had failed to protect Fawkes  
and get him off this mountain.  
  
"Get her some food. Broth. Tepid. She may not keep it down. Lots of water. Oh, and get her cleaned  
up. Logan is going to want to... talk with her later." The women nodded and then he turned and left  
the room without a backward glance.  
  
One of the women, a blonde in her early thirties, sat on the edge of the bed. "Which first, food or  
getting cleaned up?"  
  
"So I'm allowed to speak to you?" Alex sneered, ignoring the pain it caused.  
  
The two women looked at each other, then the blonde refocused on Alex. "In here yes, but outside  
this building or in the presence of the men, no. There are exceptions, but you don't know them so  
you're better off not talking." She gave Alex a wan smile. "I'm not trying to be cruel, just want  
you to be aware of your situation. They won't hesitate to punish you." At the defiant look in  
Alex's eyes, she turned to the other woman. "Show her, Lily."  
  
The woman the blonde had called Lily knelt down next to the bed and opened her mouth showing Alex  
that her tongue had been cut in half at some point in time. The stub of muscle wouldn't allow  
anything more than the most rudimentary of speech capabilities. "Why?" Alex asked, swallowing her  
horror and disgust. "Why let them do this to you?"  
  
Lily shrugged and them made arm motions suggesting she was holding a baby in her arms. The blonde  
was nodding in agreement. "The children. We stayed for the children. Carrie got out, though." She  
turned to Lily again. "Carrie made it out."  
  
Alex nodded. Carrie Sutherland was the name of the woman that had started this whole stand-off.  
"She made it to help. That's why we were coming here. To help get you out." She narrowed her eyes  
looking at the women. "You can't possibly want to stay, can you?"  
  
Both women shook their heads. "Not anymore. They, our husbands, are not the same people they were  
before that final mission." She lowered her voice. "We, the six of us that were married, had been  
told they'd been KIA. We even received posthumous medals for the work they'd done on their last  
mission only to have them show up eighteen months later. Alive and on the run." She sighed. "What  
we were supposed to do? We packed and left with them. We had no idea what had been done to them,  
and by the time we knew it was too late. We had to protect the kids."  
  
Alex nodded, unable to find any real fault in their decisions. She might very well have done the  
same thing if she'd been in their position. "What changed?" Alex asked softly.  
  
"When they started bringing in others -- those other men who simply liked the idea of controlling  
woman and fighting the government -- things got worse. Some of the women here were brought in less  
than willingly. Girlfriends of some, but a few were simply grabbed." She turned to Lily again. "We  
didn't know what to do. When Logan and his team began training, indoctrinating some of the older  
boys, we got scared and Carrie went after Logan over it. She didn't want their son becoming like  
his father."  
  
Alex held up her hand. "Wait. You're saying Carrie Sutherland is married to this Logan character?  
And it's their son she was talking about?"  
  
Lily nodded emphatically.  
  
"Damn," Alex commented softly. Still she wasn't all that surprised the lengths a woman would go to  
to save her child. "My partners. Short guy nearly bald, and a tall guy with more hair than he  
needs."  
  
Lily shook her head, but the blonde nodded. "I was on kitchen duty when the bald one was brought  
in. He's in the cell across the way. He... he was fine, but Logan needs all of you for something.  
He planned this out carefully." Lily set a hand on her arm to get her attention and, with a few  
quick hand motions reminiscent of American Sign Language, she got her point across. "The pilot of  
the plane you were on, where is he?"  
  
Alex shook her head sadly. "He died in the crash." When she saw the look of sadness on both their  
faces, she knew he had been one of them, part of this group here. "Who was he?"  
  
"Ginny's husband. Not part of the original team, and still a pretty good guy by some miracle. Ginny  
was going to tell him she was pregnant when he came back. Now we get to tell her he's dead," the  
blonde explained in a soft voice. You could tell she was a military wife. That she knew what had to  
be done and would know how to go about it the easiest way possible.  
  
Alex didn't know what to do. He was one of the enemy in some ways, but these women were not.  
"What's you're name?"  
  
"Jane," she answered with a bit of a laugh. "Good old Plain Jane, that's me." Alex would never  
have called this woman plain. Even a bit beaten down by her life recently, she was still a  
beautiful woman. "I used to be married to that corpsman who examined you. Now I just hope to get  
myself and my daughters out of here before they are to old to forget."  
  
Alex made herself sit up a bit more then. "You will. Come hell or high water we'll -- I'll -- get  
you and your children out of here. I promise you that."  
  
Jane looked at Alex and realized she meant every word. Getting to her feet, she offered a hand out  
to help Alex to her feet. "Lets get you cleaned up and see if you can hold some food down. You need  
to get well to keep that promise."  
  
With a groan Alex accepted the assistance gratefully and got to her feet.  
  
  
  
Bobby was glowering out the window at Logan's back as he made his way across the compound. He'd  
given them the rough outline of his intentions, ignoring Bobby's protests of not being able or  
willing to help. He felt bad for the guys, but they had gone over the edge, ridden that golden  
train right into nutsoville and needed to be stopped. Based on Bobby's experience, the only way  
this was going to end was in bloodshed, and that just wasn't right all the way around. These guys  
had gotten the short end of the stick and been betrayed by their very own government, but Bobby  
could in no way condone or justify what they had done since then. It was one of those no-win  
situations that was sure to get a lot of innocents hurt. It was Darien grunting in pain that drew  
his attention back to the present.  
  
Darien's hands were clutching the back of his head even as he tipped over on the mattress and  
curled up. The tendons on his neck standing out as the convulsions and pain the gland was sending  
out to him took momentary control of his body. He could feel Bobby's hands on his arm and back, his  
voice speaking soothingly to him, but was not yet able to respond as a another shock of pain  
overtook him.  
  
"Easy, my friend." Bobby wished he could do something, anything to help him, but without the  
counteragent, or perhaps a sedative, there was nothing he could do but watch and offer what little  
assistance he could with his bare hands and voice.  
  
As the pain eased and the muscles of his body finally relaxed, Darien simply closed his eyes and  
whimpered. His knee was a screaming knot of agony, and his dual headache was cranked up a notch. He  
could feel the tears running down his cheeks, but didn't care, didn't bother feeling embarrassed by  
it. There was nothing either of them could do to prevent the inevitable deterioration of his  
judgment, his sense of self. Soon he'd become a raving psychopath, and anything and everything in  
his way was at risk. Friend or foe.  
  
With Bobby's help he was able to roll onto his back and get back into a sitting position against  
the wall of their prison. "Better?"  
  
"No," Darien answered truthfully. He looked into the quietly patient eyes of his partner, his  
friend. Glancing down at his wrist, he saw it was still at two green, but he knew that wouldn't  
last for much longer. He was Stage Two already, and swiftly approaching Three. He could feel it.  
"Bobby, if it gets bad, finish it. Take me out of the game. Please."  
  
Bobby watched him carefully, knowing he wasn't kidding. "Fawkes, it won't come to that. No way."  
  
Darien managed a pained chuckle. "I'm damn near there now, Hobbes. I want no part of making  
Scarborough's predictions from all those months ago a reality." Didn't want to make that crackpot  
of a psychic right. Didn't want to hurt Bobby. He reached out and grasped Bobby's hand, surprising  
him. "Stage Four is less than a day away, and not long after that is Stage Five. I want no part of  
it, Bobby. Promise me you'll end it."  
  
Bobby was shocked at the desperation in Darien's voice, the pain and heartache evident in his eyes.  
"All right, Fawkes. If there is no chance, I'll do it. I'll make sure it ends with you." He meant  
every word. After watching what Fawkes dealt with, his surprising nobility at handling a situation  
that should not have been placed on his or anyone's shoulders, it was the least he could do. To  
ensure that no one ever went through it again. "I promise, Darien."  
  
Darien shuddered with relief. "Thanks, Bobby."  
  
"Partners, kid. And partners do for each other, remember that." Bobby watched as Darien relaxed  
slightly, as much as the remaining fear and pain allowed him to.  
  
Darien released his tight grip on Bobby's hand and asked, "How are you doing? Overdue for your meds  
aren't you?"  
  
"You know it, but in this situation being paranoid can only help and... I'll keep you and Monroe  
safe, somehow." Bobby settled next to Darien, sitting on the floor next to the mattress. "I think  
I'm gonna have to do what Logan says."  
  
"Bobby, no. We can't give in to these guys. They're crazier than the two of us put together,"  
Darien said, adamant.  
  
Bobby shook his head. "I think I might be able to pass along a message or two while I do his dirty  
work." He lowered his voice to a near whisper. "I'm betting the Keep is with them by now, and the  
FBI and ATF mooks aren't stupid. I may be able to relay more than enough info." He glanced out the  
window, noting the still overcast skies. "Sats aren't gonna be able to lock onto this place till it  
clears, and fly-overs will only be high altitude after our... accident."  
  
Darien didn't know what to say. This was not his forte and he was pretty useless at the moment.  
"Alex."  
  
"Yeah, I'll try and get in to see Monroe. Make sure she's okay." He was thinking about one of the  
comments Logan had made about her. "Do we still dislike her that much?"  
  
Darien shook his head. "I'm not sure we ever did. We just never really got the chance to know her.  
Her choice." He nudged Bobby with an elbow. "Took me a while to figure out you were something more  
than an annoying little bald man playing baby-sitter for the 'Fish." He grinned and ducked his head.  
  
Bobby snorted. "Annoying bald man, eh? Taught you everything you know, you lay-about punk."  
  
"Everything I know about the spy biz maybe, but not everything I know," Darien shot back, the grin  
turning into a real smile, then he sobered. "I may not like everything she's done or that attitude  
she's copped, but I don't hate *her*. Make any sense at all?"  
  
"Lots, Fawkes. It'll work out." He got to his feet and moved back to the window. "We need to get  
through this first."  
  
  
  
Alex was cautiously sipping at some lukewarm chicken broth after a quick bath when more visitors  
arrived. Both Jane and Lily had stayed with her the entire time and Alex was oddly grateful. Thanks  
to the beating she'd received this morning, she was in so much pain she could barely stand. One eye  
was swollen shut and nearly half her face was taken up with the bruise from the crash. Jane had  
carefully cleaned the wound and helped wash her hair, getting the blood and other debris out of it.  
They supplied her with clean clothes similar to their own: loose fitting cotton slacks and a long  
sleeved top. The fit was imperfect, but far more comfortable than the jeans she'd been wearing,  
easing some of the discomfort. The seat belt had done one hell of a job on her, leaving a deep  
purple bruise across her entire waistline, including her hip bones. Injuries on the job were  
nothing new. She had a quite interesting collection of scars, but this was a first. To be taken out  
by a bruise. Who knew coming to the Agency would be so much fun?  
  
She also knew she needed to get to a real doctor, and soon.  
  
The door to the room opened and the corpsman -- Jane's former husband -- and a stranger entered.  
The new man took one look at the two women and they scuttled past him and out of the room without  
once meeting his eyes. Alex resisted the urge to comment; instead, she carefully placed the mug  
down on the nearby table and waited for whatever was to come next. There wasn't much else she could  
do, and she wanted no part of having her tongue removed because she pissed off any of these men. So  
she reined herself in. Kept the snarky and bitchy comments inside. Held her anger at what these men  
had done back and bided her time. Information was what she needed and dealing with them was the only  
way to get it.  
  
"Agent Monroe, how are you feeling?" the stranger asked.  
  
She debated letting the nausea the broth had caused win, on the off chance she'd get to vomit all  
over this smug bastard, but she resisted, knowing she'd need the energy it provided to survive a  
bit longer. "Crappy."  
  
He nodded, as if pleased she'd kept it simple. "We're working on some arrangements that should get  
you the help you need. I'm afraid it's the one thing we lack as of yet. Medical facilities."  
  
Alex said nothing, not daring to push her luck. It was just another role to play, another mission  
where she was both more and less than herself. And she was pretty sure both Jane and Lily would  
tell her all she wanted to know.  
  
"How's the pain? Nausea?" The corpsman moved to her side and opened the kit pulling out syringes  
and vials again. He unceremoniously stuck a thermometer in her mouth before she could answer. When  
he removed it, he gave her not one clue as to what it said, but she was betting not good.  
  
"Nauseous and I hurt," Alex said softly and concisely to answer his questions. He nodded.  
  
"I'm going to give you a mild painkiller and an anti-emetic for the nausea. Once that has taken  
effect, I want you to take the Tylenol I'm going to leave you to reduce the fever." He looked her  
in the eye. "This is a short term solution only. If you do not get to a hospital within twenty-four  
hours, you will probably die."  
  
"So get me to one," Alex snapped out without thinking of the  
consequences.  
  
When it looked like the corpsman was going to hit her, the stranger put a hand on his shoulder,  
calming him instantly. "We are attempting that now, but your co-workers are being less than  
cooperative in the matter."  
  
"Threats. Why am I not surprised?" Alex paled as the doctor stabbed her less than gently with the  
first needle. It took mere seconds for her to know it was the painkiller, morphine from the feel of  
it. She knew the pain was still there, but it swiftly faded to the background. The second needle,  
though just as un-gently stuck into her, was no more than a minor irritation thanks to the drug now  
in her.  
  
"Agent Monroe, it is not intended as a threat. It is a reality. You and your partners have one  
purpose -- to get me what I want -- and no more. I prefer to have you alive at the end, but it  
doesn't really matter." He turned to the corpsman, who left three pills on the table and then left  
the room. "I suggest you convince Agent Hobbes to cooperate fully, or Agent Fawkes will be needing a  
far more than a little surgery to fix his knee. He'll be needing an entire new leg."  
  
"Like I said, 'threats'." Alex's head swam, but she was able to keep herself coherent. "Ever heard  
of just asking?"  
  
He actually laughed. "Just talk to him. Use that skill at persuasion I've heard so much about, and  
convince him."  
  
Alex wanted to know just how this guy knew anything about her, but didn't ask, somehow knowing she  
was pushing her luck with the commentary she had already made. "Who are you?" she asked very softly  
hoping it wouldn't antagonize him.  
  
"Logan," he answered getting to his feet. "You have ten minutes to convince him."  
  
Logan Sutherland. Alex was somehow not surprised. This man was the one in control around here. This  
was the man who was going to bring a war down on this place, and he wanted her to convince Hobbes to  
help him do.... something. All their lives hung in the balance. She knew how ill she was, knew  
Fawkes was going to need help. No matter what anyone else might think of her, she would do her  
damnedest to protect him, to get him and that stupid gland off this mountain intact, for his sake  
if no one else's. That line of thought made her realize that Fawkes was probably running out of  
time where the gland was concerned. She would never get used to him when quicksilver mad, but after  
the first time she had successfully hidden her reactions. She had truly felt bad for beating the  
crap out of him that first time, but there had been few choices. Dragging him into a lip lock to  
distract him had not been a viable option.  
  
Alex grinned for a moment, wondering what kissing Darien might be like, quicksilver mad or not.  
Then she shook her head, angry at herself for even considering such a thing, and logging the sudden  
fantasy off to the drugs she'd been given. Hopefully they wouldn't decide to interrogate her; she  
was betting that she'd tell them just about anything they wanted right now, and that was so not a  
good thing. She had herself back under control when Hobbes was finally escorted in.  
  
Hobbes moved to her side and sat on the bed. "How ya doing, Monroe?"  
  
"Morphine," she told him, to explain.  
  
Hobbes smiled and shook his head. "Feeling no pain, anyway. Try not to talk okay?" Alex nodded in  
agreement. "Logan have a chat with you?"  
  
"Yes, lots of threats, no reasons. Wants me to convince you to help." Alex shifted, sitting up a  
bit more and lowering her voice. "Don't do it unless it's the only way to save Fawkes."  
  
"What about you, Monroe?" Hobbes asked in all seriousness.  
  
"Expendable." She met his eyes. "I trust you, Hobbes. Get Fawkes off this mountain. Save the women  
and kids here, but don't worry about me. My five-star-A ass can handle herself." If nothing else,  
she wanted those two things accomplished. "Hobbes..."  
  
"Yeah, Monroe. I'll see to it." Bobby was starting to wonder why everything was getting dumped on  
his shoulders, when he wasn't sure how much longer he was going to hold it together himself. Seeing  
her battered and drugged was almost enough to make him go into full mother-hen mode. He couldn't  
help it. You were supposed to defend and protect women, not hurt them like this.  
  
Alex caught on to what he was thinking. "Not me, Hobbes. Them. Get them out of this place."  
  
Bobby snapped back to himself. "Got it, Monroe. Here's what this Logan character is looking for."   
He went on to detail the little he knew about these people and why they were here. What they wanted  
was their lives back, but Bobby had no idea how to get that for them. Whatever had been done to them  
might not be repairable even with current deprogramming techniques. He had no way to know. He told  
Alex of his plan to pass on info about her and Fawkes' condition, as well as the sit-rep here,  
while handing of the demands of the captors. He was hoping to set up a rescue attempt of some sort,  
but doing that without injuries might not be possible. Alex knew this as well, but they had to try.  
She agreed with his plan and could only hope the subtle code phrases he was going to pass along  
would be understood by those at the other end.  
  
Then they turned to the subject of Darien.  
  
"How close is he?" Alex was barely whispering.  
  
"Almost three. A day or less." Hobbes answered, leaning in close. He set a hand on the side of her  
face and hissed quietly at the heat radiating off of her. "Damn, Monroe, you're burning up."  
  
Alex remembered the pills then and, with Bobby's help, got them down with a swallow of water.  
Realizing she was thirsty, she drank the rest quickly, thankful the anti-emetic was working and had  
all but erased the nausea. "I'll be fine, Bobby," she lied perfectly. "They checked me over and said  
it was no big deal. We have more important things to worry about anyway."  
  
Bobby nodded reluctantly.  
  
Logan entered the room then. "Decision time."  
  
"I'll do it, but my way." Hobbes answered watching Monroe. "She is to remain untouched."  
  
Logan narrowed his eyes. "Agreed. For now. I expect a response in twelve hours, though. You will  
make sure they understand that."  
  
"Yeah, I'll be sure to." Bobby knew twelve hours was all Fawkes or Monroe had before something  
irrevocable happened to either of them. "Alex, don't let them...."  
  
"Go, Bobby," Alex said, not wanting him to give away more than he should. She knew he was way off  
his meds and was hoping to keep his focus where it needed to be. Fawkes and the women and kids  
trapped here. If they were saved, her conscience would be clear, even if she didn't make it  
herself. She might not have been able to save her son, but maybe she could save these others.  
  
"All right. Lead the way Logan. We have a call to make."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5  
  
  
When Bobby arrived back at their current residence, Darien was doing his damnedest to not take a  
piece out of the guy poking at his knee. He had refused to let the guy cut off his pant leg, not  
after the threats of torture that Logan character had leveled at Hobbes earlier. In fact, it had  
taken two nasty-looking guys with very large weapons to get him to submit to an exam at all. With  
swift precision and no sympathy at all, the guy cleaned his head wound -- ignoring the hisses of  
pain Darien unavoidably allowed to escape -- shined a light in his eyes, making him blink in  
reaction, and then set out to see just how much pain he could inflict to his knee.  
  
"Damn it, that freaking hurts!" Darien shouted at the man who was trying to convince the mangled  
knee to bend. The urge to lash out at the guy was tough to fight, especially in his current state  
of near madness. It was the gland making its presence known that ended the argument  
  
This time Darien flinched backwards, smacking his head in the wall before trying to curl up into  
fetal position with his hands wrapped tightly about his neck. His fingers curled into his hair, as  
if trying to go after the gland itself, to tear it out of his own skull to free himself of the  
pain. He couldn't think, could only react.  
  
Bobby tried to rush to Fawkes' side when he saw what was happening, but was restrained by the two  
mooks escorting him. When he saw what must be the field doc for the unit pull out a syringe and a  
vial, he went still. "Whatever that is, don't do it. Don't give it to him."  
  
The corpsman turned to Hobbes. "It's a muscle relaxant. It should help ease the convulsions."  
  
Bobby shook his head. "No. You have no idea what you're dealing with. Just leave him be."  
  
Darien's body relaxed then, his chest heaving as he tried to fill lungs that were nearly starved  
for air. After the recent mess with the gland, his lone week of freedom, his realization that he  
was damn useless to the Agency without the gland working at full, this.... reminder of the other  
side, of what the cost was, almost made him wish he hadn't had Claire 'fix' him. For all the good  
that even Alex admitted he'd done, the pain, the hell that he knew was coming, was damn near not  
worth it.  
  
Finally having caught his breath, his pushed himself upright and ran a shaky hand through his hair,  
only to see Bobby being held in place buy a couple of the militia guys and the doc wielding a  
needle. For an instant he debated asking the guy to knock him out -- or better yet, give him such a  
high dose of some sedative that he'd never wake up again -- but the worry, the almost... fright in  
Bobby's eyes stilled his tongue and forced him to swallow those words.  
  
"Epilepsy?" the doc asked him.  
  
Darien shook his head, wondering how to answer. Remembering his adventure with lightning, he came  
up with a near-perfect answer. "Brain tumor. Currently inoperable. I'm on medication to control the  
seizures it sometimes causes, but...." he trailed off.  
  
"Ah yes. Lost with the plane crash." He nodded and put away the sharp toys. "Though I have to  
wonder why they still have you working if this can happen."  
  
"'Cause it usually don't interfere with his work," Hobbes snapped out and yanked his arms free of  
the mooks holding him. Fawkes was getting pretty damn fast on his feet, coming up with bullshit to  
toss out, and he'd come up with a pretty good explanation. This time he was allowed to go to his  
partner's side. He noticed the bloodshot eyes Fawkes was sporting, though they had yet to reach  
that really nasty stage. It was going to be close. He turned to the corpsman. "You fixing him up or  
just checking out the best way to hurt him?"  
  
The corpsman tipped his head to the side. "Logan wanted me to examine him. If all goes well, you'll  
be out of here soon." He turned to Darien. "There's not much I can do for your knee. Keep your  
weight off of it, but flex your foot now and then. If you start losing sensation below the knee,  
have your guards get me." He reached back into his pack and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. "Take  
two every four hours. It should help with the pain and the swelling. Unless it will cause a problem  
with the seizures?"  
  
Darien shook his head and took the bottle from him.  
  
"Good. Someone should be bringing you a meal within the hour." He closed the bag and got to his  
feet. Moments later, Fawkes and Hobbes were alone again.  
  
"How's Alex?" Darien asked as he struggled to open the child-proof cap on the bottle.  
  
Hobbes took it from his hands and, with a practiced motion, got it open and shook two out onto  
Darien's palm. "Girl's got balls, I'll say that much for her. She's safe for the next twelve  
hours." Closing the bottle, he leaned back against the wall, sitting on the floor beside Fawkes.  
"I passed along all they wanted."  
  
Darien raised one eyebrow, not wanting to ask the question aloud.  
  
"The messages will be delivered. All of them," Hobbes answered and watched as Fawkes nodded in  
understanding. "Swallow those. They don't do you any good on the outside."  
  
Darien snorted, but did as Bobby directed. He stared at his wrist for a moment, noting that only  
one remained green now. His last bit of sanity. Times like this he hated the monitor, his countdown  
to madness. That nifty visual cue that told the world 'Darien Fawkes ends here.' He looked at  
Bobby. "How bad?" He knew what was coming, could feel/hear those whispers in the back of his mind  
slowly gaining in volume, beating on that little door he usually kept them locked behind.  
  
"Doing that nasty bloodshot thing there, my friend. Just keep yourself calm, do that biofeedback  
and meditation stuff the Keep is always going on about. Last time I checked, you still ran the show  
and not that little blob of synthetic ooze in the back of your skull." Bobby got to his feet and  
fetched a cup of water for Fawkes. Instead of settling back down next to him, though, he went to  
the window and looked out over the quiet compound.  
  
"Bobby, you don't get it. Eventually I get to the point where I don't want to fight it. Where I...I  
crave it, almost. Sometimes worse than the counteragent. And you have no idea how much that scares  
me." Darien's voice was soft, almost sad, but it needed to be said. For Bobby to be warned that at  
any moment he could lose control and then ... and then it wouldn't matter that Bobby was his  
partner, his friend.  
  
"Oh, I get it, Fawkes. You've never seen good ol' Bobby Hobbes completely off his meds. You think  
you get a little wacko and impulsive? Trust me, my friend, you don't hold a candle to Bobby Hobbes  
in full nutso mode. Besides, what with you doing the  
one-legged thing and all, I think I can take you -- adrenaline high or not." Bobby tried to sound  
confident for Darien, and it seemed to work. "Get some rest. If things go well, you'll need it."  
  
Darien didn't ask, knowing that right now, with a high chance of listeners, Bobby wouldn't tell him.  
  
  
  
Between the drugs, injuries, and simple exhaustion, Alex managed to drift off for a time, grateful,  
in some ways, to no longer be connected to the pain her body was currently in. Escaping the pain on  
her heart was another matter. The current situation had just brought back all the heartache and  
regret concerning her son and, for what seemed like the millionth time, her sleeping mind chose to  
replay the events of those few days she'd had him back. This time there was no happy ending, as  
sometimes occurred. This time she ended up trapped in, of all places, the Official's office, with  
both the Official and Eberts tag-teaming her. Asking questions she was not given a chance to  
answer, piling files in her arms and on the table before her, handing out assignment after  
assignment when all she wanted to do was get out of there and get back to her search for her son.  
She was on the verge of screaming in frustration when she was pulled out of sleep.  
  
Alex tried to sit up, prepared to defend herself, and screamed in pain instead. A scream that was  
muffled by the hand rudely shoved over her mouth.  
  
"Shhh, we need to talk."  
  
It took a moment, but the voice registered as Jane's. She relaxed back down into the cushions that  
had been propping her up and waited for Jane to remove her hand. Which she did as soon as she knew  
Alex had control back. "What's going on?"  
  
"Not sure, but several helicopters have flown over in the last hour. Your friend Agent Hobbes did  
as Logan asked. Would they try and rescue you instead of bargaining? Would they risk a war?" Jane  
sounded scared, with good reason.  
  
Alex chose to go with honesty. "Yeah, they would." She saw the woman frown, worry visible in her  
eyes even with the room only dimly lit. "There is little chance Logan and his men will get what  
they want. You must realize this." Jane's tight nod only confirmed to Alex that the woman had been  
expecting something like this all along. "Is there someplace secure in the compound or, better yet,  
outside it, where you can take the children?"  
  
"I don't think...." She paused. "Maybe. Some of the kids have figured out a way to sneak out  
through the perimeter security. We've covered for them as best we can; they deserve a chance to be  
kids. I'm sure I can convince them to lead us all out."  
  
"Good. You willing to help? To... to betray your husband and maybe end this with less bloodshed?"   
If Jane was willing to give her the information and she could pass it on to Hobbes, they might just  
get out of this in one piece.  
  
"What do you need to know?" Jane said in a steady voice.  
  
Anything for the children, Alex realized. "Weapons storage -- where and what types. Power center.  
Guards. Everything you know."  
  
Jane nodded. "Okay, here's what I know..."  
  
  
  
The compound was slowly stirring. Dim lights turned on here and there. More people were moving  
about, and there was an air of urgency about the place. By now they had to know Hobbes' message had  
not been received the way they had hoped, though he was pretty sure they were more than prepared for  
this eventuality. As he watched, activity increased around one of the more heavily constructed  
buildings; he'd bet a month's pay that's where the weapons were stored. One more piece of data to  
put away for later use. Thanks to his little tour of the compound earlier, he had also figured out  
where the power center was. His plan, thin and weak as it was, required knowing the locations of  
both places.  
  
Over on the mattress, Darien grunted in pain and went onto another set of convulsions. Bobby knelt  
beside him, wishing there was some way to help, to suffer through it for his partner -- hell, to  
take the pain away completely. An impossibility, he knew, but still. Fawkes with the quicksilver  
was one hell of an agent, as he had proved time and time again. Fawkes without was just... Fawkes.  
Still his friend -- the ability to go see-thru had nothing to do with the more personal  
relationship that had developed between them over the last eighteen months -- but not exactly top  
agent material. That he had also proven.  
  
He forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. Without his meds, his mind tended to wander a  
bit randomly unless their was something demanding his attention, and right now Fawkes was. "Talk to  
me, Fawkes."  
  
"Get away from me," Darien snapped when he had control back. Damn, he was close, mere hours left,  
or minutes if he were to use the quicksilver. That thought caught his attention. A few minutes and  
it would be over. This fight for control, the pain, the god damned pointless worry and concern  
would be gone and he'd be free.  
  
"No can do, my friend. The door is still locked and Bobby Hobbes wants no part of being shot at.  
Not yet." Even with the tension, the near anger he could feel radiating off of Fawkes along with  
the fever he was now sporting, he still tried to get him more comfortable. To ease the lingering  
pain the seizures always left behind, as well as that of his existing injuries.  
  
"Yet?" This odd little feeling of joy within him sat up and took notice of that word. "I take it  
there may be some action soon."  
  
Hobbes grunted in response. "It looks like my messages were received loud and clear." Moving back  
to the window, he heard the roar of another helicopter though this one did not fly directly  
overhead. It was a good bet they were nothing but a distraction, to hopefully lead those here into  
a certain pattern of thinking and to respond in a particular manner. So far, it appeared to be  
working.  
  
Hobbes continued watching for several minutes as more lights came on and more people began moving  
about. Including a small group headed for their cell. When the door was throw open, Hobbes was not  
surprised at all.  
  
"Both of you come with me." It wasn't Logan, but was still obviously one of his team, maybe even  
his X.O.  
  
"On your feet," another voice barked at Darien.  
  
"Right. With one leg. I think not," Darien replied with sarcasm.  
  
Two others lowered their weapons, moved to Darien, and lifted him up. They were not gentle, and  
Darien did his best to not scream aloud even though he desperately wanted to. He got angry instead.  
"Son of a bitch. Let go of me." Balancing on his good leg, he shoved one away hard enough to knock  
him into the sink.  
  
"Fawkes, stop it." Hobbes moved in front of his partner, to get Fawkes to focus on him. There was  
enough light to see that his eyes were that one step away from full madness. The veins were deeply  
swollen, making him look like some special effect guru's mad creation. "Not now. You hear me,  
Fawkes? Now is not the time for this." He barked this in his best drill sergeant voice and  
succeeded in capturing Fawkes' attention. He saw evil cousin id back off and his partner reappear  
for the time being.  
  
"I hear you, Hobbes." Darien didn't feel the least bit guilty for shoving the guy away, would have  
been quite content to see him smash into the metal sink head first, skull crushed and blood pooling  
on the floor beneath him. But he knew he had to keep in control for now. Knew Bobby had some sort of  
plan that he needed to be rational for. Or as rational as he could be, anyway.  
  
"Good." Bobby moved to help support Fawkes, one arm wrapped securely about the larger man's waist.  
He met the eyes of this group's leader, who appeared to suspect something unusual was going on, but  
didn't argue with his helping Fawkes.  
  
"Bring them."  
  
Minutes later they were in a room, an office, near the communications center Hobbes had been in  
earlier. It was just down the hall in fact. On the desk was a tape recorder. Logan was standing  
behind the desk looking at a map mounted on the wall. He was deep in discussion with two other men,  
but the slight turn of his head, the change in body posture, let Hobbes know he was aware of their  
presence in he room.  
  
With nearly identical nods the two turned away and left the room, leaving them alone with Logan.  
"Sit, Agent Fawkes." He gestured at a chair off to one side of the room.  
  
Hobbes didn't trust the guy, but knew Fawkes would be better off sitting right now and helped him  
over to and then into the chair. Then he turned to face Logan.  
  
"What did you tell them?" Logan didn't yell, didn't shout, didn't even seem angry, but it was  
plain he was going to get answers one way or another.  
  
Hobbes said nothing.  
  
With a sigh, Logan reached into the desk and removed a baton, one of those collapsible metal ones  
some riot squads used, and with a flick of his wrist had it extended and locked into place. "How  
many hits do you think it will take to ruin his knee completely?"  
  
Hobbes held his ground. No matter how much he didn't want Fawkes hurt, wanted to protect him, he  
would not give in on this.  
  
Logan nodded and set the baton down. The threat was still there, but it had been placed aside for  
the moment. "Agent Hobbes, you cannot win this. We have more than enough armament to keep them away  
for months. We know these woods. We have prepared for this eventuality for years. Whatever you told  
them, whatever hints you dropped, you will correct." He picked up the tape recorder. "I've listened  
to what you said a dozen times and, while I believe I've found most of your code phrases, they were,  
shall we say, unique. I'll admit to being unable to ascertain your real meaning."  
  
Darien snorted. "Try just talking to him on an average day -- it's worse." Unintentional as it was,  
the derisive statement caught the attention of Logan.  
  
"Really... Perhaps you'd be willing to explain some of the references to keep your partner from  
being tortured. I noticed he has a bit of fear of heat. A few hot pokers making him scream might  
convince you." Logan watched both men, but did not get the reactions he expected.  
  
Darien got angry, very angry, and forced himself to his feet.  
  
"Fawkes, back off," Hobbes shouted at him, hoping he was still in a frame of mind to listen.  
"Now!" he ordered, and was thankful when Fawkes backed down. He settled back into the chair,  
though he was not relaxed in the least.  
  
"I have no control over what those down the mountain do. I did what you asked and passed your  
message on exactly as you wanted. I kept my end of the deal, now let us go." Hobbes knew this  
wouldn't work, but it was worth a try.  
  
"You know I can't. You and your partners are the only thing holding them at bay." Logan snapped,  
his frustration finally breaking past that cool exterior.  
  
"No we're not," Darien said with a sick grin on his face. "In fact, letting them know we were here  
probably convinced them to move sooner. They're gonna take you down. Every single one of you."  
  
Logan looked from Darien to Hobbes, who could only nod in agreement. While the timing may have been  
less than perfect, the statement was true enough. They, or more accurately Fawkes, was the main  
reason this was going down so soon, and why those down the mountain were moving in on this  
encampment instead of trying to deal. Now Hobbes just had to keep up his part of it, or things were  
going to get real messy.  
  
Logan slammed his fist into the desk and then picked up his radio and shouted into it. "Get me a  
line to whoever is in charge of that circus."  
  
A few seconds later the radio crackled and static-y words drifted out. "We've been trying, sir, but  
they've apparently changed the encryption to one we do not have the code for. Repeat: we are no  
longer able to monitor their communications."  
  
Logan glared at Hobbes, knowing that he was responsible for the knowledge of their eavesdropping  
getting out. "You are now worthless to me. Benkin!" he shouted, and seconds later the door opened.  
"Escort them back to their cell."  
  
"Yes sir." Benkin entered the room followed by three others, two of whom moved to Darien and made  
it plain arguing this time would be bad.  
  
  
  
Jane returned about an hour later with the items Alex had asked for. "Are you sure you want to do  
this?"  
  
"No choice. I can't walk like this." Alex met her eyes, seeing the concern, the worry the woman  
had for her. "Help me keep that promise."  
  
"All right." She removed the items she had secreted in various places about her body. Within  
seconds she had the syringe filled and aspirated. Again she hesitated.  
  
"Do it," Alex hissed. She knew this was going to be risky, but had few other options. She refused  
to just sit here doing nothing, even if it meant risking her life. This was part of her job, her  
life -- hell, part of *her*. And she had no plans to fail today.  
  
Jane said nothing and simply stuck Alex with the needle, injecting the contents. Within moments,  
Alex was feeling no pain. The morphine was doing its job. Jane moved away, hiding the vial and  
syringe somewhere in the room, while Alex waited for the drug to hit fully. Focus was going to be a  
problem, at least at first, though the pain she was going to be inflicting on herself by moving  
would swiftly burn off the excess drug. She only hoped the balance would be struck in her favor, so  
she'd be coherent and able to function instead of either doubling over in agony or so high she was  
useless.  
  
"They called off the guards who are usually roaming in the halls, though we probably still have  
some outside." The woman was proving both her usefulness and her inherent strength. She held  
Alex's upper arm in a firm grip as she got to her feet very carefully.  
  
Alex was a little lightheaded, but not bad considering. She could feel the pain as a dull, distant  
ache that was simple to ignore. "You got everyone ready?" she asked as Jane led her from the room.  
  
"Yes, the kids are awake and just about ready to go. We... we'll drug the little ones if we need  
to. It wouldn't be the first time." They made their way down the darkened hallway to a series of  
interconnected rooms. The women here were hurriedly finishing dressing the smaller children.  
Several were noticeably pregnant, and there were three infants Alex could see, as well as a round  
dozen kids under the age of three. This was not going to be easy. Lily appeared then with a  
sweater, heavy socks, and Alex's shoes, which she put on quickly.  
  
"Who knows the way out?" Alex asked as she tied her boot.  
  
Three children, two boys and a girl, all around ten, were escorted over to her. "She found it,  
ma'am," one of the boys said, pointing at the girl.  
  
"Oh, really." Alex turned to the girl, who had an excess of both red hair and energy. "Can the  
adults fit through your escape route?"  
  
"Yes'm. Easily. But why we going?" There was a hint of fear in her voice.  
  
Alex debated how far to go, how honest to be with these children without scaring them into  
immobility. "I think some of my friends are going to be coming to try and rescue you and there..."  
  
"There's gonna be shooting, isn't there? The government is gonna kill all of us the way Logan kept  
warning us. Gonna keep us from telling the truth." This was the other boy, a dark-haired lad who  
had obviously taken the lessons he'd been taught to heart.  
  
"Yes, there will be shooting, but no, they don't want to kill anyone here. Especially not you and  
the other kids. I just want to make sure it stays that way." Alex looked over the kids' heads to  
see Jane and Lily standing there.  
  
"Nate, do you want to see Syd get hurt again? Have to rescue her from Zeke again?" Jane's voice  
was tight, her arm wound protectively about the girl, and Alex was willing to bet that that she was  
not only Jane's daughter, but this 'Syd' as well.  
  
"No. You know that," Nate said defensively. "I promised to protect her, and I will."  
  
"Then help us protect her. Protect all of you," Alex said softly. "Please."  
  
Nate nodded. "Okay, we'll show you the way, but the guards will be real alert what with all the  
copters flying over tonight."  
  
Alex got to her feet and set a hand on his shoulder. "I'll deal with the guards." She met Jane's  
eyes and she nodded. "Are they ready?"  
  
"Five minutes." Jane looked over at Lily, who moved off towards the group to help get the few  
stragglers ready. "I wasn't able to get any weapons. They watch us in the kitchen. Best I could do  
was get a couple extra syringes and load them up with a strong sedative." When Alex raised her  
eyebrows, she shrugged. "So I took advantage of him. It was worth it." She handed them over to  
Alex, who carefully stuffed them up the sleeves of the sweater. She'd much prefer using the drugs  
to fighting right now.  
  
Within minutes, everyone was ready to go. With Lily and the three kids leading the way, the group  
headed for a side entrance that backed up against the woods. The first obstacle was the guard  
stationed outside the door. After being told the typical routine, she had Jane open the door and  
leapt out at the guy. It was effective. He was so surprised to see her coming at him that he did  
nothing more than turn about. She grabbed him, one hand going over his mouth, and yanked him down  
even as she injected the contents the syringe into his neck. In seconds he slumped back against  
her, unconscious. Having to inject Fawkes with the counteragent had had some use after all. She  
lowered him to the ground and proceeded to remove every weapon she could find from him. The AK-47  
he'd been armed with she kept for herself. The 9 mm Glock she handed over to Jane as she came up  
beside her, somehow knowing the woman knew how to use it.  
  
That's when gunfire broke out in some other part of the encampment.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


	6. Chapter 6

Part 6  
  
  
Darien and Bobby were halfway across the compound when gunfire erupted somewhere off to their left.  
All four of their escorts reacted by turning towards the sound, including Benkin, who should have  
known better. Bobby didn't hesitate, grabbing the loosely-held gun of the man to his right and  
ramming it into his stomach, causing the man to double over. He followed up with a vertical swing  
to the chin with the butt of the gun, putting the guy down for the time being. Benkin turned his  
gun on Bobby, only to have it kicked expertly out of his grip. He then followed with a punch that  
Bobby managed to block. It was a sudden hit by something unseen that sent him to the ground, where  
Bobby put him out with a chop to the back of his skull.  
  
Looking about, he saw the two that had been supporting Darien were napping peacefully on the  
ground. "Fawkes, show yourself," he ordered to the empty air. "It's not like you can walk without  
help. We might as well work together."  
  
A grunt of pain was the response as Darien appeared in a shower of quicksilver flakes a few feet  
away. He was poorly balanced on his hands and knee, putting no weight on his bad leg. He collapsed  
onto his side as the pain worsened, his head trying to rip itself apart from the inside. For a  
seeming eternity there was nothing but the pain, nothing beyond the demands the gland was placing  
on his system, nothing but the wish for it to finally be over.  
  
When his eyes opened to look up at the Bobby's concerned face a few minutes later, they were  
blood-red, and Hobbes knew his partner, his friend, was gone now, replaced with this madman who  
would find pleasure in causing pain, destruction, and death to anyone who got in his way.   
  
Bobby stripped all the gear he could carry and that he felt would be useful from the four men,  
including several weapons, a set of keys, and a radio. He'd be able to listen in on what was going  
on around the camp and maybe, with a little frequency juggling, get a message out to the good guys.  
  
"Well, well, Bobby-boy, together again." Darien tried to get up three times before he became  
convinced that his leg wouldn't support him, even though he was feeling little or no pain at the  
moment.  
  
Bobby just tipped his head to the side and looked down, watching Darien's vain attempts to stand  
and walk. "You gonna cooperate, or should I just knock you out and shove you into the cell until  
the Keep gets here?" At the worst, Bobby figured, he could lock Fawkes in their cell and keep him  
out of harm's way until it was all over.  
  
"No thanks. I'm not real big on cages. Even if I should be in one." The grin that overtook his face  
was deadly and not the least bit amused. When Bobby held out his hand to help him to his feet,  
Darien took it, but made a point of squeezing far tighter than necessary.  
  
Bobby didn't react visibly, knowing it was a challenge. Darien wanted to be the one in control of  
the situation, and Bobby couldn't afford to let that happen. Shifting his hand once Darien was  
upright, he nailed the nerve between the bones in the back of the taller man's hand, making him  
yelp in reaction. "You wanna play games, do it when you can stand on your own two feet. We have  
things to do."  
  
"Hobbes..." Darien practically whined. "You are no fun."  
  
"You want fun? Then behave, and maybe we'll get the chance to make some things go 'boom' in a big  
way." Bobby was getting the hang of how to manipulate Fawkes when he was like this, but he knew he  
was going to need every trick to get him to cooperate.  
  
"Well, that has potential, anyway." Supporting himself on one leg with a hand braced on Hobbes'  
shoulder, Darien looked over the armament the man was carrying. "What, no play-toys for me?"  
  
"Uh, no. Even I am not stupid enough to temp fate that far. Now, think you can do the see-thru  
routine before someone comes to make sure we're secure in our cell?" This was not going to be fun  
at all, based on the attitude Fawkes was sporting. Keeping Fawkes' mind on the right track was  
going to take a lot of work, but at least it would help to keep Hobbes' own mind focused.  
  
"Well, why the hell not? It's not like I'm gonna go mad or anything." Darien crowed with laughter  
at his own joke and let the quicksilver flow across the two of them. With a slight change of  
position, Bobby got them moving towards the building where he was pretty sure the weapons for this  
little group of nuts were squirreled away.  
  
The encampment was waking up and the gunfire was increasing; it seemed to come from at least two  
different areas now. There was only one pair of guys left stationed to either side of the building,  
the activity of earlier this evening having been completed and the visitors out in the woods having  
drawn off at least some of the men here. With a little creativity and help from Fawkes, they were  
able to disable both guards. Hobbes left Darien by the smaller human-sized door, which was set  
within the huge double doors, handing him the keys to get the padlock open while Hobbes dragged the  
bodies off into a shadowed corner. Hopefully they would remain out of sight and out of the line of  
fire.  
  
Darien went through all ten keys and none of them worked. "Crap," he growled. Bobby's glowing form  
appeared beside him then, so he went to Plan B. Setting a hand atop the lock, he let the cold the  
quicksilver generated frost the metal, coating it completely with a thick layer. "Hit it."  
  
"What?" Hobbes asked, not quite sure what his less-than-sane partner was talking about.  
  
Snatching the pistol from where Hobbes had stuffed it in the front of his pants, Darien shifted his  
grip on it and smashed the butt into the now-fragile metal of the lock, effectively shattering it.  
"Viola."  
  
He was moving to stick the gun into his own pants when he felt the sharp point of a knife in his  
back. "Hand it over, Fawkes," Bobby said coolly. There was no way in hell he'd let Fawkes run  
around with a loaded weapon. First off, he was very likely to use it, either on himself or someone  
else, and second, Hobbes did not need to deal with the down-in-the-dumps or perhaps suicidal Fawkes  
who would emerge afterwards if he did successfully manage to use the gun. "Now."  
  
Darien grumbled for a moment about 'never getting to have fun anymore' but finally handed the gun  
over to Hobbes.  
  
"Good, now get yer ass inside and let's see what they're hiding in here." Hobbes slid the heavy  
door aside and felt Fawkes' hand settle on his shoulder as he hopped forward and into the darkened  
interior. Seconds later, the quicksilver coating Bobby flaked away, leaving him visible. His  
shoulder started getting cold mighty quick. "Hey, drop the frosty routine or do me again. I like my  
arm."  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah." Darien appeared as his own quicksilver showered the solid floor. "Are you seeing  
this, buddy?"  
  
"Yeah, Fawkes. Logan wasn't kidding -- he's prepared to go to war." Hobbes was staring about the  
dimly lit room in astonishment and dismay. The red emergency lighting only made the scene even more  
dramatic and horrifying. The floor sloped down from where they were standing into a huge cavern that  
was stocked with not only crates of weapons, but vehicles. Jeeps, Humvees, and even what looked like  
an armored personnel carrier, complete with gun mount on the roof. Moving deeper into the room,  
Hobbes noted the contents of the crates. Guns of course -- handguns of different makes, the P-90's  
he'd seen, AK-47's -- plus cases of ammo for all of them, grenade launchers, mortars,  
shoulder-mounted surface-to-air missiles -- small but effective, as their crash had proven -- land  
mines, and grenades of every type imaginable, from flash to the big nasties that could spread  
shrapnel over nearly a city block. Moving in deeper, they found the gas canisters containing sleepy  
gas, tear gas, and all the way up to some even nastier ones that would eliminate any chance of  
survivors quickly.  
  
It was the cases of helicopter parts -- more than enough to build several birds entirely from  
scratch -- that decided Hobbes.  
  
"Well, you up to helping set up a little surprise? Get a little payback on Logan and his gang?"  
  
"Payback? I like the sound of that." Darien was looking over the crates with more than a little  
greed in his eyes, probably plotting the potential uses. Luckily for Bobby, he was far, far down on  
the list of those Darien wanted to hurt right now. Well, unless he started pissing him off, that is.  
  
"You do what I say. Got me? Or I'll tie you up till I'm done." Hobbes led him over to one set of  
cases he'd noticed. Good thing he kept up on military coding for their weapons. Using the butt of  
the AK-47 he'd taken from one of the guards, he banged the top off the crate and then removed the  
packing material to reveal what looked like tightly-packed blocks of clay.  
  
"We taking a pottery class, or what?" Darien was getting bored and cranky. Not that it took very  
long in this state of mind. On a whim, he decided to try and get out of there. He set his bad leg  
down, figuring it couldn't be that bad, only to end up on the floor with his entire leg screaming  
at him. The muscles of his calf and thigh twitched in pain and his knee screamed bloody murder at  
him.  
  
"Fawkes, sometimes you are a complete idiot." Hobbes shook his head and left him lying there on the  
floor, hoping it would teach him a lesson and maybe force some common sense into that  
quicksilver-mad head of his. Within a couple minutes, he found what he was looking for and dragged  
over a couple more crates.  
  
"Bobby...."  
  
Hobbes looked up from removing the packing material to see Fawkes staring at him with those red  
eyes of his. For the moment, it appeared his partner had control back. "Yeah, Fawkes."  
  
Darien tried three times to get the words out, fighting with himself, fighting through conflicting  
wants and impulses that seemed to fire randomly through his thoughts, through the whispered ideas  
and suggestions the gland seemed to be insisting he carry out. "Just... r-remember what you  
promised."  
  
Bobby hadn't forgotten. "I do, Fawkes. Now you gonna help or what?"  
  
  
  
Alex had taken out two more guards they had come across, while Jane and Lily had gotten another  
one. Alex had to give them credit: they'd put the guy down with barely a sound when he'd stumbled  
upon their group. The sounds of gunfire had increased, but none of it was anywhere near them. The  
kids led them to a dry creek bed that was set a good ten feet below the forest floor. At some  
point, according to Jane, Logan and the others had diverted the creek to create a source of power  
for the camp. A good old fashioned water wheel turned the turbine, which generated all the power  
the camp needed as well as supplying them with fresh water.  
  
Now the creek bed led through the perimeter security, going unnoticed for some reason -- one of  
those blind spots that sometimes happens even with the best of people. The kids had discovered that  
it let out into a gully that had once contained a pool fed by the stream. The depression had since  
gotten overgrown with wild grass and become a small glade among the old growth forest they were in.  
It was far enough away from the camp that the kids had been able to play in relative peace, and they  
had made it their own over the months. There was even a clubhouse of sorts, made from woven-together  
fern fronds and items swiped from the camp itself. This would be a perfect place for them to stay  
till rescue arrived, with the creek providing an easily-followed landmark for rescuers.  
  
Once Alex had everyone settled -- they actually knew these woods much better than she did -- she  
assessed her condition. She could feel the distant and dull ache that was her abdomen, while her  
head both throbbed and tried to float away due to the morphine trying to steal her concentration.  
She could feel the sweat running down her neck and sides as her fever rose again. The weapons were  
handed out among the adults and several took up guard positions around their hideaway, making it  
appear that they, too, had been military at one time. Perhaps they'd chosen to leave once getting  
married, or maybe some had simply absorbed enough of the training over the years to have decent  
grasp on what was necessary.  
  
"Jane, if anyone comes along, surrender. Don't risk yourselves. Hopefully it'll be the good guys."  
Alex adjusted the P-90 she'd taken in exchange for the AK-47 for and looked over the area.  
  
"You're going back?" Jane sounded astonished. They'd gotten out, why go back?  
  
"My partners are back there. I have to go back," Alex told her.  
  
"You'll kill yourself. Just because the morphine's dulled the pain doesn't mean it's not there, or  
that you're not causing more damage," Jane insisted.  
  
Alex shook her head, not sure how to make her understand. Bobby Hobbes might be certifiable most  
days, but he was right about a few things. You don't bail on your partner. Ever. "If I'm not back  
by dawn and no one's found you, head down the mountain. There will be someone looking for you, I  
can guarantee you that."  
  
Jane shook her head. "Just be careful."  
  
"Always." With that, Alex headed back to where the stream used to empty into this glade and  
followed it back to the encampment. She still had a pair of irascible partners to find, and maybe  
rescue.  
  
  
  
"How you holding up there, Fawkes?"  
  
Darien snarled through the gag and tried again to stand up. With no success, of course, seeing as  
his good leg was tied firmly in place to one tree while his hands were behind his back and tied to  
another. Hobbes knew Fawkes was going to be pissed, but he'd been backed into a corner. They'd  
finished setting up the first surprise without too much trouble and, with the aid of a little  
quicksilver, they'd made their way over to the power station to set up a second one. The gunfire  
was louder, closer, but still on the far side of the compound. Where they were was fairly quiet --  
once they had taken out the lone guard, that is. He was also tied and gagged, but still snoozing  
peacefully from the blow Hobbes had given him.  
  
Hobbes had ended up tying Fawkes to the tree when Darien had gotten bored again and remembered the  
women here, including -- or maybe especially -- Monroe. He'd tried convince Hobbes they needed to  
'rescue the fair maidens', then went on to detail exactly how. In graphic and less-than-chivalrous  
terms. Though the jousting references had to be some of the most unique Hobbes had ever heard.  
  
Hobbes quickly got annoyed, due to both the subject matter and the fact he really needed to  
concentrate so as not to blow both their asses into little pieces, so he'd grabbed some more of the  
rope he'd used to restrain the guard and tied Fawkes in place. The rope was good quality and would  
take a lot of work to go through, even with the quicksilver to frost it. Fawkes then proceeded to  
rant about what he wanted to do with the 'fair maidens' at the top of his lungs, including several  
less-than-tasteful comments about Hobbes and his abilities with the fairer sex. Stripping a section  
of the sleeping guard's shirt off with the knife, he'd shoved it into Fawkes' mouth and tied it in  
place. The silence was more than worth the cost of a bitten finger.  
  
"Just about done here, and then we can go find Monroe."  
  
Darien mumbled something behind the gag, something Hobbes was sure was more lewd commentary  
involving positions and lessons in how a woman should really act, which he dutifully ignored. While  
Fawkes was undeniably attractive, Hobbes knew he was not Alex's type, and not because of his looks.  
It was partially the 'company pier' issue -- Monroe felt the same way about it he did, business and  
pleasure should not mix. It was also because of more personal issues -- she 'd dropped a few tidbits  
about herself while they were both stuck together in the SWRB dungeon. Like why she was more than a  
little freaked to be locked up in a small, dark room, and a bit about why she had stayed with the  
Agency even after they thought her son safe.  
  
Monroe had burned a lot of bridges, and pissed off some major players in the business, when she'd  
gotten both herself and the Agency reassigned over a personal issue. Sure, they'd rescued a lot of  
other kids, even reunited some with their parents, but at a high cost to her. Oh, she could  
probably transfer to any other agency she wanted with a few polite phone calls, but there would  
always be those who would look askance at her because of what she had done, because of the way she  
had thrown her power around.  
  
Being who and what she was made her almost as big an ... oddity as he and Fawkes were. In some  
ways, she was a perfect fit for the Agency: another unique and rare individual who had a hard time  
finding her place. With them was as good as anywhere else, and better in some ways. And besides,  
where she went, her money and high tech toys went. Might as well keep them where *he* could play  
with them.  
  
Hobbes finished the last connection and then double-checked the entire rig, before flipping the  
switch on the control to arm the device. A press of the button on the hand-held control and 'boom!'  
  
He turned around in time to see a headless Fawkes shatter the frosted gag.  
  
"Look out!" Darien shouted.  
  
Hobbes didn't have time to think, he simply reacted. Spinning around, he spotted the guy who was  
about to cold-cock him. Aiming the gun he hadn't even consciously drawn, he fired it at point blank  
range. His attacker went down and stayed that way.  
  
"God damn it! Untie me before another one comes along! Fricking sitting duck. Trussed up like a  
freaking Christmas goose." Darien began to squirm, ignoring the pain that shot through his leg and  
head. He wanted his freedom, even limited as it currently was. "Now, damn it!" he screamed. Hobbes  
unfroze and moved to Darien's side, cutting the ropes that held him in place. Darien thanked him by  
wrapping one long-fingered hand about Hobbes' throat and squeezing for a moment. "Don't ever do that  
to me again," he snarled, then shoved Hobbes away from him. Bracing himself against the tree he  
managed to get to his feet and glared about him.  
  
Hobbes pushed himself up, rubbing his throat. He'd been right: Fawkes was pissed. At least he was  
holding it together enough to not kill Hobbes outright, though it was damn close. He moved over to  
the guy he'd shot and frowned when he realized that, although he was nearly as tall as Darien, he  
was only a kid. Maybe sixteen, seventeen years old.  
  
"Oh, shit." Hobbes knelt down beside him, hoping he'd be able to do something -- anything -- to  
help, but it quickly became obvious he could do nothing. His aim, even in a knee-jerk reaction, had  
been impeccable; the kid had taken the hit just to the left of his heart. His breath was wheezing in  
and out with every short shallow pant, and his eyes were already doing that faraway look, beginning  
to glaze over. "Ah damn, kid, I'm sorry." Hobbes had no idea whether or not the kid had heard him  
as he shuddered and then relaxed completely. The battle Hobbes knew to be coming would no longer be  
any of his concern.  
  
With a sigh of frustration and anger at himself, he shut the kid's eyes and began dragging the body  
away from the building. He didn't want to think about what he'd done -- not now. He'd deal with it  
later, with his shrink most likely. Pour out his guilt and heartache to those uncaring ears and try  
to ease the burden he knew he'd just placed on his soul.  
  
He then dragged the sleeping guard out of the way as well. He wanted to give the guy at least half  
a chance when the place he'd been guarding went up in a ball of flames.  
  
Darien watched all this, somewhat disconcerted. Really, what did it matter if he was dead, kid or  
not? One less enemy to have to deal with. Right? Then why was it, even as deep as he had fallen,  
part of him was almost as upset as Hobbes appeared to be?  
  
"Come on, Fawkes, someone is sure to have heard that shot and will be by to check it out. We need  
to be out of range." Darien didn't say a word as he set and arm about Hobbes' shoulders and allowed  
himself to helped away from the power building.  
  
"What now?" Darien asked, his attention having already swung away from the death of a young life  
he'd watched moments before, wondering how much more of this boring crap he was going to have to  
endure before having some fun.  
  
"Monroe and the kids, Fawkes. Time to get them out of here," Hobbes answered, leading them through  
the edge of the woods towards the building. They weren't using the quicksilver at the moment,  
finding it was not all that necessary around the fringes of the camp. As they neared their target,  
activity in the camp itself increased and the sounds of gunfire moved closer. Several men broke off  
to head towards the power center where the agents had been just moments before. That's when they  
heard their names being shouted by Logan.  
  
  
  
Alex had retraced her steps back to the compound with little trouble -- at least not from the bad  
guys. Her body began to rebel, though. The nausea came back with a rush, forcing her to double  
over, with her hand clapped over her mouth to keep the sounds from escaping as she gagged and  
coughed and choked. She was successful, not only in keeping the little food and drink she'd had  
down, but also in attracting no attention to herself. The bout of nausea had a less-than-pleasant  
side-effect, though: the pain in her abdomen and head returned. Not yet severe, but no longer the  
faraway dull reminder. No matter how quickly she wanted to move, she was forced to slow down now,  
and to make choices that would give her the best chance of success in this endeavor.  
  
She made it back through the perimeter security and headed towards the building she and the other  
women had been housed in, being careful to approach from a different direction than the one they  
had left by. No need to run into an unhappy guard just returning to consciousness, or his friends  
who may have found him. She couldn't help but notice the gunfire was growing nearer and nearer to  
the camp itself. The battle line was being pushed back, as well as spreading out. Soon the place  
would be surrounded, and then things would get really hairy. With the majority of the women and  
children gone, that left only Fawkes and Hobbes to bargain with. The Official would probably make  
every effort to get Fawkes returned to him undamaged, but she suspected that these guys would be  
far more likely to kill them, maybe even kill everyone who wasn't part of the original team, in  
order to make their escape. From what Jane and Lily (through Jane) had told her, they were... not  
desperate, but determined to have things go their way, even if it meant leaving and starting over  
again.  
  
Alex was fully aware of what people in that frame of mind would do to achieve their goals --  
anything.  
  
She was edging her away around the camp, heading for the cell Jane had described to her as where  
Fawkes and Hobbes were being kept, when the sound of a gun being cocked made her freeze in place.  
  
"Good girl," a deep voice said. "Care to explain how you got out?" The owner of the voice appeared  
a moment later, wearing dark green camouflage and pointing his handgun casually at her. A look of  
confusion crossed his face when he realized he didn't recognize her, but it cleared quickly. "You  
must be Agent Monroe. One of the prizes that was going to save us."  
  
Alex knew she'd have one chance at this; she swung her gun in his direction and pulled the trigger.  
He dove to the ground almost as if he'd been anticipating her move. Alex re-targeted him, only to be  
rudely poked in the back with the muzzle of a gun.  
  
"Slowly. Logan still would prefer you unhurt," a smooth voice said, almost in her ear.  
  
Alex cursed herself silently as she allowed them to take the gun and search her for any other  
weapons. Even knowing she wasn't on top of her game, she hadn't compensated nearly enough to keep  
herself from being caught. The guy frisking her caught her flinch as his hands ran over her  
abdomen, but he still found the knife she'd stashed under the heavy sweater and removed it with a  
dark chuckle.  
  
"Brave thing, aren't you? Even hurt, you try to escape." He was actually somewhat gentle as he  
pulled her arms behind her back and secured her wrists with one of those plastic quick ties.  
  
"Escape?" Alex commented. "I already did that. I was on my way back."  
  
That got the attention of both men, as well as the third who suddenly appeared out of the darkness.  
  
"Shit," the new guy snapped out. He tipped his head to the side and spoke into the radio. "Check  
the Nursery. Our guest got out." Then he focused on Alex, and his look was not pleasant. "Bring  
her."  
  
Alex didn't fight them -- there was little point unless she wanted herself hurt or killed -- but  
they made a point of being less than gentle, especially after the voice wafting across the radio  
reported the Nursery was empty. She could feel the anger radiating off all three men and was  
careful to do nothing to antagonize them. She knew that being a woman and one of Logan's 'prizes'  
would gain her no consideration at this point, and she happened to like her tongue right where it  
was.  
  
She was shoved rather violently into a large room, one that was probably used for gatherings, but  
which had been turned into a war room due to the situation at hand. She kept upright, but only  
because she fell against Logan himself and he, instead of allowing her to fall, caught her and held  
her in place.  
  
"Did you at least get them somewhere safe?"  
  
Alex nodded, surprised at the actual concern in his eyes for the women and kids he had done his  
best to terrorize since bringing them here. His gaze was pulled away from hers by a voice coming  
out of the radio.  
  
"Shots fired within the compound. Repeat: we have shots fired within the compound. Near the power  
station."  
  
"Send Miller and Gorman to check it out. Where the hell is Benkin?" Logan didn't sound overly  
concerned, but he kept a secure grip on Alex's arm. It took five minutes for him to get his answer  
and it wasn't one he liked. "So your friends have been loose all this time. Good thing I have the  
pretty little piece that should draw them out of whatever hole they've crawled into." Pulling Alex  
along, he headed for the door to the building, barking orders as he went. "Call them in. It's time  
to end this. Killian, get your men and get the vehicles ready. It's time we show them exactly how  
serious we are."  
  
Killian and three others ran off while Logan, Alex and four more moved to one of the few open areas  
outside. "Hobbes. Fawkes. Come out. I have Monroe."  
  
  
  
Almost as one, Hobbes and Fawkes muttered, "Oh, crap."  
  
"Now what?" Darien snapped. "Let's just leave her. Get the hell out of here. There are better  
things to do."  
  
Hobbes elbowed Fawkes in the ribs, making him grunt in pain. "You are such an asshole. I hope like  
hell the Keep gets here soon, or I'm gonna tie you up again."  
  
Darien fought with himself as Hobbes kept them moving. When they reached the edge of the building,  
Hobbes peeked out to see Logan and a group of men in profile standing in the open area. Logan  
shifted then, and Hobbes could see Monroe was looking okay considering everything, but was  
restrained. Hobbes ducked back around out of sight and looked up into the reddened eyes of his  
partner. "All right gland- man, think you can be useful?"  
  
"Give me a good reason to." Darien wasn't in the mood for following orders, though the possibility  
of getting some of that payback held the potential of some fun.  
  
"You get to rescue the fair maiden."  
  
That got Darien's attention; his eyes narrowed even as a slight smile crossed his lips.  
  
  
  
"Agent Hobbes, I know you are still here. I would highly recommend to show yourself or I will make  
sure she is the first casualty on your side." The gun he held against Alex's head was not for show,  
as she well knew.  
  
"Don't do it, Hobbes. Remember what I told you." The last word came out with a grunt of pain, as  
Logan jerked her backwards by her hair and then shoved her to the ground, where she lay panting in  
pain for several minutes. The blood pounded in her ears as she fought the urge to faint.  
  
Hobbes appeared off to the left and slightly behind, the quicksilver flakes falling away and  
catching the eye of one of the group, who spun about and raised his weapon. "It's over Logan, you  
can't win this one."  
  
The entire group shifted so that Logan could focus on Hobbes, leaving Alex still on the ground. She  
slowly shifted up onto her knees.  
  
"You're right, I can't win, but I can get away. I'll use you to guarantee our safe passage," Logan  
stated with a dark look.  
  
"You mean in those trucks you have hidden away?" Hobbes made sure to hide his reaction to the frown  
that crossed Logan's features. "'Fraid you won't be going anywhere in those." Pressing the button on  
the first control, he waited for the sound of the explosion to be heard. It took a few seconds  
longer than he'd expected, but the ground rumbled and a flash of light and fire appeared from the  
direction of the underground weapons depot. "Fawkes, now!" Hobbes dove for the trees, knowing he  
was going to be a target in seconds. He was right -- bullets impacted the ground, following him to  
the tree-line, where he did his best to lose himself amongst the foliage.  
  
"Cease fire. Cease fire!" Logan bellowed as he tried to hear the voice shouting out of the radio on  
his shoulder. "Killian, repeat."  
  
"Sir, they collapsed the entrance. We're unhurt, but trapped inside." Killian sounded more than a  
little pissed off about the situation.  
  
"Hold your position and make sure everything stays secure," Logan replied, sounding more than a  
little frustrated himself. Three agents from some cheesy, nearly-forgotten sub-department had  
somehow managed to screw up everything he had built here. "Find him," he snapped, and two of the  
men with him headed off towards the direction Hobbes had taken.  
  
Alex watched all this, hoping she'd continue to be forgotten, then shivered as the temp seemed to  
drop dramatically near her. "Fawkes?" she asked sotto voce.  
  
"Surprise," he purred in her ear. Setting hands on her shoulders, he let the quicksilver flow over  
her. Once she was glowing with his own golden aura, he tugged at her. "Get up. I still can't walk  
on my own."  
  
Alex didn't say a word, wanting to remain unheard by Logan, who was still far too close to them.  
With her hands still tied behind her back, it wasn't easy to maneuver, but somehow they managed.  
Darien used her to balance and alternated between a severe limp and hopping on his good leg until  
they were back around behind the building where he and Hobbes had come up with this plan. Hobbes  
was across the way, still drawing off the mooks, and hopefully.... There was another explosion,  
this one far louder, since it was not underground. All around them, the lights behind shuttered  
windows dimmed and went out, leaving them in near-total darkness.  
  
"Alone at last," Darien growled softly as he changed his hold upon her.  
  
"Fawkes, get off." Alex tried to shove him away with her shoulder, but his grip only tightened and  
they ended up on the ground, with her partially underneath him.  
  
Darien grunted in pain as his knee connected with the ground, but didn't release his grip on Alex.  
Allowing the quicksilver to fall away, ignoring the shouts and sounds of gunfire all around them,  
he reached up to caress her bruised cheek. "What a shame, your pretty little face looking less than  
perfect."  
  
Alex tried to shift away, but his weight was more than enough to hold her in place so long as her  
hands were still tied behind her back. Even in the dim light filtering through the clouds, she  
could tell his eyes were fully red. "Fawkes, don't make me hurt you."  
  
Darien laughed softly. "And what do you think you can do, Miss-Five-Star-pain-in-the-ass? Cry for  
help?" Sliding his other hand lower, he pressed on her abdomen, causing her to shriek in pain. He  
clapped his other hand over her mouth and rubbed his cheek along hers, feeling the dampness of the  
tears that had sprung to her eyes. Turning, he licked them away then trailed lower, moving his hand  
away to kiss her.  
  
Alex snapped at him, trying to bite him, but missed. He was damn fast. "Fawkes, damn it, don't do  
this."  
  
"'Fawkes, don't do this'," he mimicked in a mocking falsetto voice. Then his tone changed, becoming  
harsher. "Give it up, Monroe. How big a fool do you think I am?" He shifted his good leg, forcing it  
between hers and then wiggling it from side to side till hers were parted. "If you'd just drop that  
wall you put up for once, I know you'd enjoy yourself. You pretend to be so high and mighty, so  
above the rest of us, but you aren't. Are you?" He moved in closer, making his slow way back to her  
ear, where he spent a moment sucking on her earlobe before biting it hard enough to make her gasp.  
"Tell me you never thought about it -- you and me. Tell me you never woke up panting for air,  
sweating, and wishing for release. Tell me you never once wanted this."  
  
Alex bit her lip and did her best to not react, not only to what his lips and tongue were doing,  
but to where his hands were wandering. She wished she could tell him no -- she should be able to  
tell him no. She was fully capable of lying straight faced to anyone, but now... now the drugs, the  
pain, and his words stilled her tongue. "Fawkes." This time she was unable to hold back the groan of  
combined pain and desire that rolled across her. "Fawkes? Darien, damn it, untie me at least."  
  
Darien's head came up from the hollow of her throat. "So you can hit me and run? I think not. You  
seem content as you are."  
  
Alex did the only thing she could think of, that one thing she'd wondered about for weeks now --  
she kissed him. He seemed surprised at first and then went right along with it. For long minutes,  
Alex led him right where she wanted him, while enjoying every precious second of it. For she knew  
this would be her only chance, her only justification for doing something this foolish with this  
man. When she had him groaning in reaction at last, a reaction she could also feel given their  
current position, she tried again. "Come on, it'll be lots more fun with me untied." She shifted  
her hips upwards to encourage him a bit more.  
  
"Mmm, yeah. That'd be good 'bout now. I have some plans for those hands of yours." Shifting off of  
her, he got them both sat up so he could reach behind her and frost the plastic tie. The tie was  
keeping her hands from doing any of the dozen or so things he had in mind. With a swift jerk, he  
snapped the restraint and then slowly drew her hands in front of her. He was wary, expecting her to  
try and fight, to try and get away, and while that might be fun for a time, he'd rather use his  
energy enjoying her than catching and fighting with her. Instead, she slid her hands up his arms  
and across his chest, causing him to draw in a surprised breath. As her fingers wandered up into  
his hair, he threw caution to the wind and just let good, old-fashioned, gland-encouraged lust take  
over.  
  
They spent several long minutes tasting and touching each other. It was when the quicksilver  
flowed, Darien groaning in reaction to what her hands and tongue were doing to him, that she made  
her move. Darien's hands were busily working their way under her sweater to find and cup her  
breasts, while one of hers played teasingly with the muscles of his stomach, slipping along the  
edge of his slacks, and making him draw in a sharp breath and shudder in reaction. Her other hand  
played with the curls at the back of his neck while slowly working the other syringe loaded with  
sedative out of her sleeve. She'd almost forgotten about the damn thing, but having it jabbing into  
her back, and by some miracle not breaking, had given her the idea of how to get out of this  
situation with both her virtue -- so to speak -- and his honor intact. If nothing else, she had  
learned that Darien Fawkes was an honorable man, in his own way, and she knew he would regret what  
was happening now -- what might still happen, if this didn't work.  
  
Finally freeing it from her sleeve, she carefully shifted it until she could, with a string of  
kisses and nips along the side of his neck, grip the plastic cap between her teeth and slide it  
off. His hands suddenly made her gasp in reaction, and for an instant she was tempted to let it  
continue, to follow through with this bit of lust, to act upon those desires she'd been unable to  
deny to him. It was his soft-spoken words that drew her back to the reality of the situation.  
  
"Come on, baby, give it up for me."  
  
Alex did. With a soft moan, she stabbed him in the thick muscle joining neck to shoulder and felt  
him stiffen, holding her painfully tight. Withdrawing the empty syringe, she held on to him as he  
snarled at her.  
  
"Bitch. I should have known you'd do something like this." The last few words came out slurred as  
the powerful sedative took effect. The quicksilver fell away, even as his body relaxed completely.   
  
Shifting both of them, she laid his head in her lap and gently ran her fingers through his hair.  
"Sorry, Darien."  
  
When they were found sometime later by Hobbes, Alex had fallen asleep as well, her arms curled  
protectively about Darien.  
  
  
  
-- Two Weeks Later --  
  
The wooden double doors to Alex's office stood open as dark green jump-suited men made their way  
out, carrying a variety of boxes and furniture. This was Darien's first real chance to talk to her  
since they'd been rescued. Not that he remembered a whole lot of that experience. He'd woken up in  
a hospital with both Claire and Bobby hovering over him, though not for long. Near as he could  
tell, they'd knocked him right back out and he hadn't woken again until his unceremonious arrival  
at Leavitt. Whereupon he'd been poked, prodded, and run through any amount of torture before they  
found an orthopedic surgeon with the necessary clearance and skill to put what was left of his knee  
back together.  
  
The Keep had finally turned him loose yesterday, allowing him to go home and fumble about his  
apartment on crutches. His leg was encased in one of those annoying Velcro-strapped braces to  
prevent him from doing anything outrageously stupid. Being chauffeured about by an Agency goon  
wasn't all that much fun, but his one failed attempt at driving had made him realize that he was  
going to need the help. For few weeks anyway.  
  
So he was doing okay. Back to being his sane, remorseful self. Bobby had proved to be just as tough  
as always, even with the bullet wound he'd taken in his shoulder playing dodge-em with Logan and his  
crew. The good guys had ridden in on their black, nearly-silent helicopters and dropped down on  
lines into the encampment to round up those they could. The fire-fight in the woods had been  
nothing more than a distraction, designed to give Hobbes and him a chance to disable the power to  
the camp. No power meant limited sight and no communications. The fact that they had also prevented  
a full-blown, if small, war by collapsing the entrance to the underground weapons storage had made  
it even easier. Logan and his men had not been able to access their bigger guns -- literally.  
According to Bobby and Eberts, they'd had quite a collection in there. The Agency was following up  
on the situation, trying to track down exactly who had been getting them access to military  
weapons. Some of those crates were officially listed as being in various weapons storage depots  
around the world, even though they had actually been in that cavern on a lonely mountain in the  
Cascades.  
  
Logan and three others from his original unit had managed to get away. The rest... well, the  
military had stepped in and claimed jurisdiction over them. Bobby had tried to find out what  
happened to them, but with no luck. It's like they'd just vanished off the face of the earth.  
Darien knew better, though. Being an experiment himself, he was willing to bet they'd just been put  
back in storage, waiting for a time their talents would be useful again. He couldn't help but be  
sympathetic, even after everything. They were stuck in a life they had never planned on living, and  
had done what they could to make the best of the situation.  
  
It had taken Darien a long time, and a partial week of unplanned freedom from the gland to realize  
that he *was* the invisible man. Giving up the remainder of his week without the gland's effect,  
risking his life again to save Bobby... he'd admit it made him angry at first, but it was worth it,  
he had since realized. Those few days on that mountain had made him think and realize a lot of  
things. Like, maybe he did have something more here at the Agency than he thought. And that maybe  
what he needed wasn't to get out of here, but to see that he wasn't really trapped anymore, not  
with the friends he had made. That maybe instead of fighting the life he was in, whether blatantly  
or subtly, that maybe it was time to just live it.  
  
The workmen had moved on, leaving the doorway free. Darien moved forward to knock on the doorframe,  
and was pleasantly surprised when Alex lifted her head and smiled at him. She waved for him to come  
in and then continued packing the box she had sitting on her desk.  
  
"How are you doing, Alex?" He looked her over. It had been more than long enough for the swelling  
on her face to recede and the bruises to begin to fade, much like his own. His recovery from  
surgery was taking a bit longer than hers. Either that or she was twice as stubborn as he thought  
she was. He was here to apologize for what he'd done, or tried to do, to her while quicksilver mad.  
But he was unsure how to go about it.  
  
"Not bad, Fawkes." Alex was very glad he'd come through everything all right. She watched him as  
he carefully settled into the chair on the far side of her desk and leaned over to set the crutches  
on the floor. While she'd been recovering, she'd kept tabs on him, and had helped get Dr. Trilane  
the clearance he needed to perform the surgery. He was the best of the best, and exactly who Darien  
needed and deserved to have fixing his leg. From what she'd been told, Darien was going to be just  
fine within a few weeks. Back to his old trouble-making self in no time at all.  
  
"So, I heard you had appendicitis of all things?" He chose to examine the cuticles of his nails  
instead of meeting her eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to see what was there -- fear, anger, hatred,  
or maybe even pity. He wasn't sure why, but pity would be the worst.  
  
"You heard right. The crash just sped up the process a bit." She'd spent a week in an Olympia  
hospital recovering after an emergency appendectomy, among other things. At least it explained the  
'stomach' pains she'd been ignoring for a over a month. Turned out she'd been working on one hell  
of an ulcer as well, which was why she'd been coughing up blood during their hike through the  
woods. She hadn't been real big on trusting doctors after the mess with the fertility clinic,  
James, and Stark.  
  
Still not sure how to broach the subject he wanted to discuss with her, he chose something a little  
more obvious. "What's with all the packing? Taking over a bigger office?" Darien made sure to put  
humor in his voice; after everything, especially with what had happened at the end there, he didn't  
want to upset her. Maybe he wanted her to realize she that didn't have to remain an outsider among  
them any longer. Maybe he wanted her to realize that he wanted her here.  
  
"I'm leaving, Fawkes." She shifted the box, wincing slightly. The stitches were out, but she was  
still quite stiff and sore.  
  
"Leaving? What do you mean? I haven't been that out of the loop, have I? Or is this one of those  
'need-to-know' things?" This had to be over what had happened. He couldn't really blame her. How  
could he expect her to want to stay after he'd done his damnedest to rape her? "Alex?"  
  
"I realized something out there, realized I had my priorities all wrong." She put a few more items  
in the box and then met his eyes. He looked sad, confused, and worried all at the same time.   
  
Sitting here in this office, she'd pored through records, tried to get into Chrysalis' mainframe,  
followed every stray lead and vague tips hoping she might find out where Stark had hidden her son,  
while at the same time playing the good soldier here at the Agency. She didn't regret staying,  
truly liked working here in fact, but she now knew that, when word of Eleanor Stark's treachery had  
become known, she should have left. Should have gone after James -- her son, damn it, and not theirs  
-- instead of trying to take down all of Chrysalis. The Agency could handle Chrysalis well enough  
without her -- she hadn't contributed that much, just given them another reason to be at odds after  
the discovery of the camps and the youth program they were using. Nothing they couldn't have done  
without.  
  
"I thought I could use my job, my position, to find my son, and still do the work that was required  
of me." Alex moved around the desk and stood before Darien. For once, she didn't bother trying to  
hide what she was feeling. "I was wrong." She gave him a small smile. "Those women -- Jane, Lily,  
Carrie Sutherland -- they stayed to keep their children safe, to protect them. Hell, Carrie faced  
down Logan and then walked down that mountain to make sure they'd be safe in the end. I gave up  
James to make sure he'd stay safe, have a chance at a normal life. I think giving up this job to  
guarantee that happens is a small sacrifice to make. Don't you?"  
  
Darien was more than a little stunned. Miss Five-Star-A, Miss Wonder Woman herself was leaving? He  
realized he must be misinterpreting what she was saying. "So where to? CIA, FBI, NSA? Oh, I know,  
Secret Service."  
  
She shook her head. "None of those. I'm getting out. A leave of absence, if you will. I have more  
than enough money put away, and more than enough resources to try and track down James on my own. I  
still have all my contacts, as well." She saw the look of dismay on his face. "I'll be fine." This  
time she meant it. She finally felt like she was on the right track with her life. She'd miss this  
life, this secret agent business, but it was time to move on, like she should have when she'd  
decided to get pregnant in the first place. Promises she'd made and unplanned losses had encouraged  
her to take the steps she had. Maybe they'd not been the best choices she could have made, but they  
were hers, and now it was time to make sure those promises were kept.  
  
Darien pushed himself to his feet, balancing carefully without the crutches. "Alex, if this has  
anything to do with what happened..." He stopped, knowing he was doing this all wrong. "I'm sorry.  
I... I can't say I didn't mean it, 'cause, well...." He shrugged. "I like you, Alex, and I don't  
want what happened to be a reason you're leaving."  
  
"No... Darien, it isn't." She could see he didn't believe her. "It isn't, and if the situation  
were different, I might consider discussing certain things with you. When you're not quicksilver  
mad, that is." The smile she gave him was genuine and unreserved. "I... like you as well. You were  
certainly the last thing I expected in my life." Bending down, she picked up the crutches and  
handed them to him before he fell over in surprise.  
  
Taking them from her, he leaned forward on the pair instead of shoving them under his arms like he  
should. "Does that mean no 'company pier' issue?" Though his voice suggested he was joking, the  
look in his eyes was very serious.  
  
"Darien, I won't be here. Not much, anyway. I have no idea where Stark hid James; they could be in  
Istanbul for all I know. I can't afford to be tied to one place until I've found him." She leaned  
back against her desk to look up at him. "And I was never exactly the stay-at-home type anyway."  
  
"Or he could be right here, living half a block from you," Darien added, and watched her look  
sober. She was really serious about this. She was leaving, and he might very well never see her  
again. "If you ever need anything..."  
  
"You and that neurotic partner of yours will be the first on my list to call." She set a hand on  
his forearm and squeezed gently. "Thank you."  
  
One of the workmen poked his head back into the room. "Miss Monroe, is there anything else?"  
  
She held Darien's gaze for on moment longer, and then turned to face the uniformed man. "That  
should do it. I'll be down in just a minute."  
  
The man nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
Turning around, she tossed the very last items in the box and picked it up. "Darien Fawkes, I'm  
glad I got the chance to meet you. You're one hell of an agent. I hope you get what you want in  
your life." She stepped away carrying the box and made it to the door before Darien found his  
voice.  
  
"Alex." She turned back around to look at him. "Bring James by when you find him." Not if, but  
when. Somehow, some way, she would find him. Darien truly believed that.  
  
"I will. Promise."  
  
Alex opened the doors and walked out of her office at the Agency for the last time, as Darien  
watched. Just another woman in a long list to walk out of his life.  
  
  
  
  
// "There are no mistakes. The events we bring upon ourselves, no matter how unpleasant, are  
necessary in order to learn what we need to learn; whatever steps we take, they're necessary to  
reach the places we've chosen to go." -- Richard Bach, The Bridge Across Forever //  
  
  
Finis   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 


End file.
